


Making it Right

by notallballs (notallbees)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Established Relationship, Getting Together, M/M, Parallel Universes, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-07 16:41:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12236724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notallbees/pseuds/notallballs
Summary: Stuck in an unsatisfactory government job, estranged from his family, and perpetually single, Iwaizumi's life isn't what he expected. With little time to socialise, his friends have grown distant, even Oikawa. On the eve of Iwaizumi's thirtieth birthday, the two of them have a colossal fight, ten years' worth of unspoken tensions reaching boiling point.When Iwaizumi wakes the next day, he's confused to find himself in Oikawa's apartment, while Oikawa behaves as if nothing is wrong. As the day goes on, Iwaizumi begins to realise that the life he's woken up in is not his own, but the result of choices he made differently ten years earlier. Can he make it back to his own reality? And, more importantly, does he even want to?





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy. I've been working on this story since June and it's such a pleasure to finally show it to you all. 
> 
> Thank you with all my heart to [pussycat-scribbles](http://pussycat-scribbles.tumblr.com) for cooking up this idea with me, and being my cheerleader even when she had a million other things to do. 
> 
> [PLEASE CHECK OUT HER INCREDIBLE ART HERE AND SEND HER LOTS OF LOVE :3](http://pussycat-scribbles.tumblr.com/post/166856784986/a-long-time-ago-once-upon-a-whatsapp)
> 
>  
> 
> Strap in, folks.

 

 

 _“It's not about making the right choice._  
_It's about making a choice and making it right.”_

_[― J.R. Rim, Better to be able to love than to be loveable](https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/7062180-it-s-not-about-making-the-right-choice-it-s-about-making) _

 

 

It was just after six PM on the ninth of June, and it was also the earliest that Hajime had left his office in over a fortnight.

As he stood waiting for the elevator, Hajime read through his messages. Yahaba had accidentally wished him happy birthday a day early, as he did every year; Matsukawa apologised for standing him up; Hajime's mother had let him know that she'd sent a card. Hajime replied to each one, and then reread the email that Oikawa had sent him the previous afternoon.

 

 _Iwa-chan~_  
_Duty calls! It looks like I'll have to stay in Nagoya another night so I might not make it back in time for drinks on Friday! At least it's one more day away from that nightmare school. See you soon (*¯︶¯*)_

 

Hajime frowned and deleted the email.

The elevator pinged, and Hajime stepped inside, but before the doors had time to close he heard someone call out.

"Iwaizumi-san!"

Hajime looked up at the sound of his name. The office manager stood in the hallway; she smiled and waved when she saw him look up.

"I thought I'd missed you," she said, hurrying over to him.

Hajime reached out to hold the elevator doors. "Sorry, Hashimoto-san," he said, giving her a tired smile that he didn't feel. "I can't stay tonight, I have plans—"

"Oh, no," she said, waving him off politely. "It's nothing like that. I just wanted to make sure you got your birthday gift before you go." She held out her hands, presenting him with slim, grey envelope. "It's from the whole office, we just wanted to wish you a happy birthday."

Hajime hesitated for a moment, before slinging his backpack over his shoulder and accepting the gift from her. "Ah...thank you," he said, with an awkward laugh. "I wasn't expecting anything."

"Well," she said, leaning in closer. "My sister-in-law works in HR, and she let me know it was an important one." She winked at him.

Hajime allowed himself a small smile. "I hope I'm not going to have the whole office asking why I haven't settled down yet. My parents are bad enough."

She laughed, taking half a step back toward the office door. "We can table that discussion for another day."

"Lucky me," he said with an exaggerated wince. "See you tomorrow, Hashimoto-san."

She looked surprised. "You mean Monday? Tomorrow is Saturday."

Hajime shook his head. "Much as I'd love to take my birthday off, this project won't submit itself."

Hashimoto frowned at him. "You work too hard, Iwaizumi-kun."

"I've been told."

She sighed. "Well, I won't be in tomorrow, but please try to enjoy your birthday."

He nodded. "I'll try. Thank you again for the gift."

 

 

The bar wasn't crowded when Hajime arrived, and he managed to find Hanamaki easily. They greeted one another without ceremony, and Hanamaki leaned over the bar to order him a drink.

"Call that one an early birthday gift," he said, spreading his hands in a magnanimous gesture before tugging out a bar stool for Hajime. "Did you see Kindaichi?"

"No?" Hajime turned his head, craning to see, but there was no sign of Kindaichi. "Is it just the three of us?"

"Sawamura is on his way, but he has to leave early. Issei couldn't make it—"

"Yeah, he texted me."

Hajime pulled out his phone to double check, but Matsukawa was the last person to text him. Sighing, he put his phone away again.

"Waiting on a call?" Hanamaki asked, giving him a sly look.

"Something like that," Hajime muttered, shaking his head. "It's not important."

The bartender put a drink down in front of Hanamaki, who slid it along the bar to Hajime. "Drink up, birthday boy."

Hajime touched the side of the glass. A bead of condensation was slowly trickling down the smooth surface, and he watched it for a moment before wiping it away with his finger. "Have you heard from Oikawa?" He tried to keep his voice lighthearted. Hanamaki was watching him, but Hajime kept his eyes trained forward.

"Not this week," Hanamaki said eventually. "He'll be here though."

"Yeah."

"Has he ever missed your birthday?"

Hajime shrugged. The answer was no. Oikawa had never once missed his birthday, not even that one terrible year when they were still in university and everything had been going wrong, or that equally terrible season when Oikawa got injured and had to stop playing.

Hanamaki nodded, satisfied. "He'll be here."

Kindaichi returned from the bathroom a few minutes later and bought Hajime another drink. It had been several months since they'd seen one another thanks to Hajime's busy work schedule, but Kindaichi greeted him cheerfully as though no time had passed at all. He chattered excitedly about work and mutual friends, while Hajime nodded and smiled at the right moments.

"Did Yahaba text you early again?" Kindaichi asked, leaning a little too close, and laughing when Hajime nodded. "He always texts me a day early too, he must have the wrong dates in his calendar."

Hajime smiled. "I guess so."

"I ran into Kageyama a few weeks ago—"

"He still playing pro?" Hanamaki interjected.

"Yeah, he—"

"Iwaizumi!"

Hajime turned and found Sawamura striding toward him across the bar. Sawamura greeted him with a warm hug, and handed him a card signed from a group of their friends. Hajime hadn't seen any of them in at least six months.

"What, no Oikawa?" Sawamura asked as he shrugged off his work jacket. "I was looking forward to my annual roasting."

"He's running late," Hajime fibbed.

Sawamura grinned. "I'm sure he'll be here soon."

"Hey, Sawamura," Hanamaki interjected. "Did you catch the interhigh last weekend—"

Hajime watched as the three of them fell easily into conversation, sharing news of mutual friends, and teasing one another about old rivalries. Without Oikawa there, the jokes were less barbed than usual; they felt like old friends, rather than old enemies tolerating each other's company.

Hajime's friends made every effort to include him in the conversation, but as an hour passed with no sign of Oikawa, Hajime began to feel tired of the effort it took to keep talking, keep listening, keep _smiling_. At one point he heard Kindaichi mention Oikawa's name, but Hanamaki quickly hushed him. Hajime felt something dark bubbling in his chest; Matsukawa was happily married, and Sawamura had settled down with one of his childhood friends, but he and Oikawa were still assumed to be a matched set even though Hajime was fairly sure they'd forgotten how to fit together a long time ago.

"Hey, Iwaizumi," Sawamura said after a few drinks, clasping his shoulder and gesturing at the drink in his hand. "How many free rounds have you had now?"

Hajime looked up from his near-empty glass and frowned. "Sorry, I'm being a leech, huh? I'll get the next one."

Sawamura laughed. "That wasn't what I meant. Didn't you say you had to work tomorrow?"

Hajime glanced at his watch. Oikawa was over two hours late. Hajime shrugged. "It'll be fine."

"If you say so," Sawamura said, his brow creasing. "I should get going, but enjoy your birthday as best you can, okay? You're only thirty once."

"Technically he's thirty for a whole year," Hanamaki said with a wry smile.

Hajime snorted and elbowed Hanamaki out of the way. "I will, Sawamura," he said, reaching out and clapping Sawamura on the shoulder. "Thanks for coming, and say hi to Yui for me."

With Sawamura gone, Hajime felt how much more noticeable his own silence was. He ordered another drink, and let the alcohol do the talking for him. If Hanamaki and Kindaichi noticed that he was a little slow to laugh at their jokes, they didn't say so,

Eventually Hajime excused himself to the bathroom. He felt pleasantly buzzed, enough that he hadn't thought to check his phone in over an hour, but the happy haze faded somewhat when he realised that Oikawa still hadn't texted him. Still, he reminded himself that it wasn't technically his birthday yet. Oikawa couldn't miss something that hadn't happened yet.

Looking at himself in the mirror, Hajime gave himself a cursory examination. His eyes were bloodshot, with dark circles underneath them. His skin was pale, the tips of his ears and cheeks flushed. There were damp patches in the armpits of his shirt, and the buttons strained over his stomach. Hajime turned away again with a scowl.

When he finally returned to the others, Kindaichi was preparing to leave, and apologising profusely for not staying longer.

"It's fine," Iwaizumi said, putting an arm around his shoulders. "We'll probably call it a night soon anyway. Thanks for coming."

Kindaichi grinned and leaned in to hug him. "Happy birthday, Iwaizumi-san," he slurred cheerfully. "Thanks for inviting me!"

"I didn't," Hajime said, because Hanamaki had been in charge of the invitations, realising too late that he probably shouldn't have said that. "Look after yourself, Kindaichi."

"You too! Bye, Hanamaki-san!"

"I always liked that kid," Hanamaki said once Kindaichi had left.

"Mm," Hajime hummed in agreement. "Figures that Oikawa didn't show his face."

Hanamaki glanced at him and fluttered his eyelashes. "Are we not enough for you anymore, Iwaizumi?"

Hajime shook his head, sighing heavily. "I thought just once, just maybe, I could have one night without it being about Oikawa's drama."

"He said he might be late, right?" Hanamaki said, his expression sobering. "I'm sure he'll turn up."

"Right," Hajime said, snorting. "To pretend like he still gives a shit."

Hanamaki rolled his eyes. "If you don't want him here I can text him."

The thought gave Hajime a brief surge of vindictive pleasure, but as much as he hated lying to Oikawa, he'd long since chosen the path of least resistance when it came to their relationship. It was easier to pretend things were okay between them than risk losing what they still had.

"Iwa?"

Hajime slammed his drink down on the bar. "You know what," he said, scowling down at his hands. "At this point, I'm not sure I care anymore. We're nearly thirty now, it seems a little pathetic to keep pretending there's still anything between us."

Hanamaki gave a brief, stilted laugh. "Come on, dude—"

"You know what he's like," Hajime growled. "Even if he does turn up he'll sweep in and make a big show of apologising for being late, and acting like he's missed me so much, but when's the last time we hung out together? When's the last time he even called?"

Sighing, Hanamaki picked up his drink again. "I'm sure you'll tell me."

"I don't even know!" Hajime said, gesturing with his hand and spilling his drink in the process. "Fuck. Even when we do talk, he just makes me feel guilty."

"Iwaizumi—" Hanamaki said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

But Hajime plunged on, unable to stop now that he'd lifted the seal. "I know he hated giving up volleyball but it's not _my_ fault he stopped playing. And he still acts as if I betrayed him by giving it up in university, like I ever had a choice."

"He knows that," Hanamaki said, glancing over his shoulder. "Hey, listen—"

"And the way he's so stuck in the past, still calling me Iwa-chan and clinging onto me like a kid. It's pathetic, but I get it—"

"Iwa, seriously—"

"—back then we actually liked each other, we had stuff in common. Now all we do is avoid each other, and when we can't do that we pretend everything is fine and try not to talk about all the shit we missed out on because we were too afraid to—"

" _Iwa_ ," Makki snapped, reaching out to shove Hajime's shoulder. "He's right behind you, you fucking idiot."

Hajime stared at him, reeling a little from the shove. "Hey—" he started to protest, but then Hanamaki's words sank in and his eyes widened, his heart slamming against his ribs heavily before changing to the fast, shallow beat of a frightened rabbit. Hanamaki nodded, as though Hajime had asked for confirmation, but he didn't need to. He turned slowly.

Oikawa was standing no more than a metre away, holding a gift bag in one hand, his phone in the other. His face was slack with shock, but as their eyes met he drew himself up straight, covering the hurt with an easy sneer.

"Oikawa—" Hajime said, slipping from his stool.

Without speaking, Oikawa reached out and dumped the gift bag on a nearby table. He looked, for a moment, as though he wanted to say something, but after a moment he tore his gaze from Hajime's and turned, walking straight back out of the bar.

Hajime dropped back onto the stool. "Fuck."

Some part of him felt a nasty little satisfaction that Oikawa had overheard, but the rest of him was slowly being overruled by a rising panic, flood waters breaching the banks. His heart was still beating fast, his pulse fluttering in his neck, and he felt short of breath and panicky. His vision started to blur at the edges.

Before he could spiral into a panic attack, Hanamaki shoved him again.

"Oi!" Hajime protested.

"Are you serious? _Go after him_."

Hajime stared at the open door of the bar for several moments, before turning away. "What's the point?" he muttered, shoulders slumping as he reached for his drink.

"Nope," Hanamaki said, snatching the glass out of his reach. "Go after him right now, or you'll never forgive yourself."

Hajime scowled at him. He turned to look at the gift bag Oikawa had left on the next table. It was bright turquoise, with a silver bow at the top. He recognised Oikawa's messy scrawl on the tag. Hajime still felt hot all over, his stomach churning with anger, and he didn't even know why; Oikawa had come, after all, like he always did in the end.

With a groan, Hajime pushed himself out of his seat again and trudged across the bar to the door.

Oikawa hadn't gone far. When Hajime stepped outside, Oikawa was just a few steps away, his back against a wall, one of his hands pressed against his chest.

"Hey!" Hajime called out. Oikawa's head snapped round, his eyes narrowing when he spotted Hajime.

"Iwa-chan," he said, his voice cold. "Or should I say _Iwaizumi_. Don't worry, I was just leaving."

Hajime took a deep breath and walked over to him. "Oikawa, I'm sorry—"

Oikawa pushed away from the wall, shaking his head. "Sorry you said it? Or sorry that you got caught?"

Hajime winced. "Both."

Oikawa sighed and folded his arms. "Seeing you drunk somehow isn't as charming as it was a decade ago. Maybe it's time for you to grow up."

"You want _me_ to grow up?" Hajime snarled. "What about you, Shittykawa?"

"Name-calling," Oikawa said, with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. "What a paragon of maturity you are, _Iwa-chan._ "

"Fuck off, Oikawa," Hajime snarled, blood burning in his face and hands. He curled his fingers into fists. "Did I say anything that wasn't true?"

Oikawa shook his head, his expression fierce. He was biting his his lip so hard it looked painful. "I can't believe you would put that all on me," he said, hands shaking at his sides. "As if I'm the one who made decisions about us—"

"Oikawa—"

"—about how we should be."

Hajime looked away. "What do you want me to say?" he growled, trying to steady the shake in his voice. He felt like he'd been dropped in a pot of boiling water, heat flushing through him. He couldn't seem to orient himself. When he looked up again, Oikawa was watching him with an open expression, his lips parted and trembling. Hajime closed his eyes. "You want me to say that it's my fault?" he asked, voice low. "Fine, it's my fault." He clenched his fingers more tightly, felt the nails cut into his palms. "I didn't want to be with you. Does that make it easier?"

"You can't even look at me when you say it," Oikawa spat. His voice was thick in a way Hajime recognised from long ago, from tired bus rides, and crushing defeats. The sound made him long to reach out, to comfort. "I thought of all people I could trust _you_ not to lie to me."

"What difference does it make now?" Hajime said, more loudly than he'd meant to. Around them, passers by were starting to stare, but Oikawa didn't seem to notice that a couple crossed the street to avoid him. "What do you want from me?"

"I want the truth!" Oikawa took a step closer. His gaze burned into Hajime. "I've waited ten fucking years for that, so don't tell me you didn't want to when I _know_ you wanted me just as much as I wanted you."

"God, Oikawa," Hajime groaned, pushing his hands into his hair and grabbing fistfuls of it, trying to ground himself. "We were kids, we were stupid—"

"Some of us still are," Oikawa spat, looking him over. "I'm not asking for your idiotic laundry list of reasons why it wouldn't work. I want to know when you became such a coward."

Hajime flinched. "Don't call me that."

" _Coward_ ," Oikawa said again, lifting his chin in defiance. "You've never had to take risks, never made a choice for yourself. Must make it easier when nothing is your fault."

"That's not fair," Hajime yelled, advancing on him. "I gave up _everything_ trying to be what other people wanted me to be."

"Yeah, it must have been _such_ a challenge letting your parents choose your life for you."

"That's easy for you to say, your parents _wanted_ you to play volleyball."

Oikawa wasn't listening. "Of course," he said, the shake in his voice giving away the anger beneath his calm tone. "There's _one_ decision—"

"Enough, Oikawa," Hajime snarled. He spread his arms, gesturing at the quiet street, the stares they were still getting from passing strangers. He half expected someone to start filming it. "Look at us now. You really think this would be any easier if we'd thrown a relationship into the mix?"

Oikawa's eyes widened, and he looked for a moment as though he might laugh. "What do you think a relationship _is_?" he hissed. "It's not just some chore, like brushing your teeth or doing laundry—"

"Says the guy who's never had a relationship longer than a month."

"People support each other, Iwa-chan," Oikawa continued, ignoring his comment. "That's the _point_ , maybe things wouldn't be so hard if you would just let me in—"

"What am I supposed to do, go back in time?"

Oikawa rolled his eyes. "Because of course you can't do anything to change your life _now_ ," he said in a sarcastic voice. "That might take some effort."

The words made Hajime flinch, and something passed over Oikawa's gaze momentarily, gone again the next instant.

"You're so concerned about who made the call," Hajime said in a shaking voice. "You don't even care whether it was the right one or not."

Oikawa's face shuttered. "And you're too busy defending your decision to stop and think about whether you really made the right choice."

"No, Oikawa—"

"I'm going home, Iwa-chan," Oikawa said, his voice suddenly very weary. "I would say I'll text you on your birthday, but I don't think that's a good idea."

Hajime's stomach seized. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Oikawa gave him a brittle, meaningless smile. "You said it yourself. It's pointless to pretend there's still anything here." He gestured to the empty space between them and shrugged. "Have a good birthday, Iwaizumi."

"What—it's over?"

"Just like you wanted."

"Do _not_ put that on me—"

" _Fine_ ," Oikawa snapped. "Like I want—like both of us want. Now leave me alone, so I can get on with my life."

Hajime tasted bile in the back of his throat. Oikawa was still close enough that he could've reached out and touched him, but he couldn't move. For a moment, Oikawa looked as if he wanted to say more, but he merely passed his cold gaze over Hajime's face one last time before turning away.

After he'd gone, Hajime went back into the bar to find Hanamaki waiting.

"No Oikawa?"

Hajime shook his head and slapped some money on the bar. "I'm going home."

"Iwa—"

"Goodnight," Hajime said firmly. After a moment's hesitation, he grabbed the gift bag that Oikawa had left on the table. "Thanks for coming."

"Iwaizumi—"

On the walk home, Hajime ignored Hanamaki's calls and texts and bought a bottle of shochu from a convenience store on the way back to his apartment.

At home, Hajime poured himself a drink before opening Oikawa's gift. It was a snow globe, something cheap and tacky that Oikawa had picked up in a gift shop. Inside was a tiny scene of a ferris wheel. He shook it, and watched the fake snow swirl about inside the plastic bubble.

"Bastard," Hajime muttered, tossing the gift to one side. He heard it smack against the table as it bounced out of sight. He leaned over and put his face in his hands. "Fucking— _bastard_. I hate you, I _hate_ you."

Hajime reached for his phone with a shaking hand. Oikawa hadn't texted him, and Hanamaki had given up trying to call. One more drink. He'd have one more drink, and then he'd text Oikawa and let him know what he thought of the _gift_. But he didn't, in the end. Instead, he drank until his vision blurred and his eyes burned with the effort of forcing himself not to cry. Eventually, Hajime finally turned off his phone and crawled into bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Kudos and comments mean the world :3


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :3c

The next morning Hajime woke feeling like his head was pressed against a sheet of sandpaper. His eyes were scratchy, and his mouth was uncomfortably dry. Rolling over, he reached for the glass on his night stand, but his knuckles knocked against a plastic bottle instead and sent it toppling to the floor. 

"Shit," Hajime grumbled, leaning over to reach for it. 

There were clothes piled on the floor that he didn't remember leaving there. It looked more like Oikawa's place than his own, although for all he knew, maybe Oikawa picked up his clothes nowadays instead of leaving them strewn all over the floor. 

As he grabbed the water bottle, the muffled noise he could hear resolved into the sound of someone singing badly. Hajime took a sip from the bottle, then propped it back on the night stand and sat up. He wasn't in his own bedroom. The sheets were a bright teal, not his own dark grey, and colourful paintings hung on the wall. The door, which stood ajar, was in the wrong place. 

The noisy, off-key singing got closer. Hajime recognised it with a start, and his heart began pounding. 

"Oikawa?" he said, almost to himself. 

The singing stopped momentarily, and then changed to the familiar words but off-key tune of _Happy Birthday_. Hajime cringed. 

The door swung open, and Oikawa pranced in holding a tray, and sang " _Happy birthday to Iwa-cha—n! Happy birthday to yo—u!_ "

Hajime stared at him. 

"What?" Oikawa said, tipping his head on one side and smiling. "No applause?" 

"Oikawa, what're you doing here?" Hajime glanced around again. "Or what am I doing here?" 

"We changed our tickets, remember?" Oikawa came over and set the tray beside Hajime on the bed. He was only wearing his boxers and a loose, open cardigan; Hajime made himself look away. As he turned, Oikawa leaned over, brushing the hair off Hajime's forehead and leaning in to kiss his temple. 

Hajime flinched away from him, and Oikawa frowned.

"Are you feeling alright, Hajime?"

"I'm feeling pretty hungover."

Oikawa's frown deepened. "You only had one beer last night." He pressed the back of his hand to Hajime's forehead. "You're not getting sick are you? Are you still well enough to go?"

Hajime blinked at him. "Go where? And what are you talking about? I drank _way_ too much last night. I was already drunk when you—" He cut himself off, looking at the confusion writ across Oikawa's face, and his stomach lurched. "Oh, god, Oikawa. I'm so sorry about last night, I didn't mean it, I promise, I was upset—"

"Woah woah," Oikawa said, starting to laugh. He shifted the tray to the other side of the bed, and sat on the edge of the mattress, reaching out to touch Hajime's cheek with his palm. "What's going on with you? Did you have a bad dream?" 

Hajime leaned into his touch, letting his eyes fall shut. "Maybe," he said quietly. He sighed out a breath, and opened his eyes again to find Oikawa watching him intently. "I still don't really understand what I'm doing here. What happened?"

"I know it's hard to imagine," Oikawa said, grinning at him. "But you took the day off."

"I did? No I didn't."

Oikawa laughed. "You definitely did. We're catching the train in a couple of hours, Auntie is expecting us for dinner." 

"Oikawa, what—"

"And why do you keep calling me that?" Oikawa complained, starting to pout. "Are you annoyed at me? After I brought you breakfast as well. Which, by the way, is getting cold." He gave Hajime a significant look, then glanced over at the tray, and back to Hajime. 

"I...yeah, sorry." Hajime reached over and picked up the bowl and chopsticks. There was a glass of juice on the tray, along with a single flower in a glass. The sight of it killed what little appetite Hajime had. He ate a couple of mouthfuls, then put the bowl back down. "Sorry," he said again, aware of Oikawa's expectant gaze. "I guess I'm not very hungry."

Oikawa frowned at him. "Well now I'm really worried. Are you well enough to go home?" 

"Fine," Hajime said, glancing around for his phone. "Uh, what time is it? I don't know where my phone is." 

"It's right here," Oikawa said, picking up a battered phone from the night stand. 

"That's not mine."

"Of course it is," Oikawa said, grinning. He swiped the screen and tilted it toward Hajime. The background image was a photo of Oikawa eating ice cream. It was a candid picture, the kind Oikawa would never send to anyone but him, or someone else he trusted implicitly. 

_Probably not me anymore_ , Hajime thought with a painful jolt. 

But Oikawa was here, smiling and acting as though the previous night had never happened. The act was unsettling Hajime; Oikawa didn't let things go so easily, and Hajime couldn't help feeling that this must be the calm before the storm. 

Oikawa gave the phone an impatient little shake and Hajime took it from him. He didn't recognise it. Frowning, he opened the contacts; Mom and Dad matched his parents' phone numbers, and Chiaki was there too. 

"Did your parents text you yet?" Oikawa said, blithely picking up the conversation again. "I talked to Auntie while I was making breakfast, I told her you were still asleep so she said she'd wait for you to call." He grinned. "You should see the size of the cake she bought, she's determined to make me fat."

Hajime put the phone down and blinked at him. "What?"

"Would you like that, Hajime?" Oikawa purred, turning where he sat and pushing himself up so that he could sling his knee over Hajime's thighs. "You always used to tell me I looked too skinny, maybe you'd like it if I put more weight on."

"Oikawa, what—"

"You _are_ cross with me," Oikawa sighed, shuffling up to sit on Hajime's lap. He tilted his head, leaning in, and kissed the side of Hajime's jaw. "Can I make it better?"

Hajime curled his hands into fists, clutching handfuls of the sheets. "Oikawa," he said stiffly.

Oikawa chuckled, and the tickle of his warm breath on Hajime's neck was torture. "Ah ah," he said, his tone teasing disapproval. 

Hajime felt his breathing hitch, and then Oikawa's hands slid down his chest, touching his stomach through his t-shirt. 

"Hajime," Oikawa breathed. 

"T—Tooru," Hajime said, his breathing shallow. "We shouldn't?"

Oikawa's quiet laughter vibrated through him like the aftermath of an earthquake. "We don't really have time for anything acrobatic," he said, sounding sly. "But I can be quick."

Before Hajime could reply, Oikawa kissed his cheek, then slid down his body, kissing his neck and then pushing up his t-shirt to kiss his stomach. 

"Oi—Tooru, wait—"

"Just relax," Oikawa said, pressing him back against the pillows with a firm hand. "Let me take care of you."

Hajime shook his head, words failing him. Oikawa peeled back the covers, kicking them down to Hajime's ankles. 

"Mm so you _are_ happy to see me," Oikawa teased, before lowering his head and nuzzling Hajime's semi-hard dick through his underwear. 

"Oikawa, wait."

"Sorry, who?" 

Oikawa hooked his thumbs in Hajime's underwear and started to tug it down. 

Panicked, Hajime grabbed Oikawa's shoulders and shoved him away. "Oikawa, stop!"

For a moment, Oikawa stared back at him, eyes wide with hurt and confusion. He looked aside quickly, and Hajime could see the edge of his frown when he noticed that they had spilled the bowl with Hajime's breakfast. 

"How stupid," Oikawa said, his voice calm, the tension wound tight. "I should've moved that first." He slid off the bed and reached for the tray. "I'll clean this up, you can have the bathroom."

The two mouthfuls Hajime had eaten sat in his chest like a rock. "Oikawa—"

"If we hurry and pack, we can get something to eat on the way to the station."

Hajime sat forward. "Oikawa, wait—"

"We don't have long, Iwa-chan," Oikawa said, turning in the doorway to give him an empty smile. "Better get in the shower."

As Oikawa left, he closed the bedroom door firmly behind him. Sitting there in the mess of rumpled sheets, Hajime felt wretched and hollow. He didn't know how he'd managed to upset Oikawa so atrociously not once, but twice, in the space of less than twenty-four hours. Perhaps this would be the storm that he'd dreaded. 

 

 

When Hajime had showered, he picked up the phone and called his office. The work he'd planned to do that day wasn't urgent, and whatever was going on with Oikawa seemed like something he should see through. 

The phone rang a few times before someone picked up, but Hajime had known there wouldn't be many people working today. When someone finally answered, it was the office manager's voice on the other end. 

"Hashimoto-san," Hajime said in surprise. "I thought you weren't working today."

 _"I had to open the office for Eguchi-san,"_ she said calmly, and hesitated before continuing, _"Sorry, I'm afraid I don't recognise your voice?"_

"It's Iwaizumi," he said, but his words were followed by an awkward silence. "Uh, from Planning? 

Hashimoto made a soft noise of polite confusion. _"I'm sorry, have we spoken before, Iwaizumi-san?"_

"What?" he asked, incredulous. "Of course we have, we spoke yesterday. You gave me a birthday card from the office."

 _"I'm so sorry,"_ she said after another brief pause. _"You must have mistaken me for someone. Is there something I can help you with?"_

Hajime frowned. "Well...can you just tell Watanabe-san that I won't be coming in today? I'll make up for it on Monday, but there's a—a family emergency."

 _"Of course,"_ Hashimoto said, still sounding confused. _"So it's Iwaizumi…?"_

"Hajime," he said, an edge creeping into his tone. "Iwaizumi Hajime. This is Hashimoto Reika, isn't it?"

 _"Certainly,"_ she replied, hesitant. _"Is there anything else you need from me, Iwaizumi-san?"_

"No, just—"

The line went dead before he could finish, and Hajime stared at his phone in bewilderment. It didn't seem likely that Hashimoto would play a prank on him. Maybe there was another Hashimoto that he didn't know, but it had certainly _sounded_ like the right person. Still, he'd reported his absence, the rest could be dealt with on Monday.

"Is everything alright?" Oikawa asked, putting his head around the door and giving him a tentative smile.

Hajime sighed and passed a hand over his face. His head was still pounding, but the shower had helped somewhat. "Fine," he said, hoping he sounded more convincing to Oikawa.

Judging by Oikawa's doubtful expression, he'd missed by a mile. "We really need to hurry if we're going to catch the train," Oikawa said, stepping into the room and folding his arms. "Auntie will be cross if we're late."

"Yeah," Hajime said, getting to his feet. There was a backpack stuffed with clean clothes and toiletries that he must have packed the night before. The other him. He picked it up and gestured for Oikawa to lead the way. "I'm ready, let's go."

The walk to the station passed mostly in silence. Oikawa still seemed to be sulking after the awkward moment over breakfast, which made conversation awkward. Not to mention, Hajime didn't want to risk broaching the topic of the previous night and starting a fresh argument.

At the station, Oikawa bought fresh pastries from a stand and then hustled Hajime through the gate to wait for their train. It wasn't until they stood on the platform that Hajime began to feel anxious. 

Until that moment he'd been so busy trying to process the strangeness of the situation, not to mention Oikawa's bizarre behaviour, that it hadn't really hit him that they were going _home_. Back to Miyagi. To his parents. 

"You should call Auntie back," Oikawa said in a thoughtful voice, leaning into Hajime's side. "She wants to wish you happy birthday."

Hajime unconsciously moved away, not realising he'd done so until Oikawa flashed him a curious look. "There's a lot of people around," he murmured, looking away and reaching into his pocket for his phone. 

Oikawa looked unhappy. "As if that usually stops you," he said, turning away to look up at the display of departure times.

"Mm."

Hajime dialled his parents' home number on the clunky, unfamiliar phone, and held it up as the call connected. 

_"Iwaizumi residence."_

"Dad," Hajime said, his stomach clenching tightly. "It's Hajime."

 _"Ah, you're awake,"_ his father said in a warm voice. _"Happy birthday, Hajime."_

"Oh, thanks—"

_"I'll call your mother, just a moment."_

Hajime stood and waited while his stomach slowly twisted itself into knots in his chest. It was months since he'd spoken to either of his parents, years since they'd had a real conversation. He couldn't remember when he'd last called home. 

_"Hajime?"_ said his mother's voice after a minute. 

Hajime swallowed. "Hey, Mom."

 _"Happy birthday, sweetheart!"_ she announced, sounding far more cheerful than he was used to. _"Are you two on your way yet?"_

"Yeah, we're at the station," he said, glancing across at Oikawa, who gave him a false, sunny smile. "The train is coming in a couple of minutes."

 _"I won't keep you then,"_ she said fondly. _"Do you want your dad to pick you up from the station when you get here?"_

"Oh...no, we can walk," Hajime said, wondering a moment later if he should have accepted the offer. It wasn't that far from the station to his house, but he wasn't sure if Oikawa would be happy to walk it. "Hey," he said, elbowing Oikawa in the arm. "Do we wanna get picked up?"

"Tell her we'll walk," Oikawa said, the false smile melting into something more genuine. "It's a lovely day."

Hajime nodded. "We'll walk," he told his mother. The train arrived soon after, precluding any further conversation, and they said a hurried goodbye before Hajime stepped forward and boarded the train alongside Oikawa.

 

 

The train journey was uneventful. Hajime was still feeling unwell, so he took a hoodie from his backpack and used it as a pillow, ignoring Oikawa's jokey offer for Hajime to sleep on his shoulder. He woke a few times during the journey, each time to find Oikawa looking past him to gaze out of the window, his eyes fixed on some point in the distance.

Oikawa shook him awake at last, leaning in close. "Hajime," he said softly, his breath on Hajime's cheek. "We're here."

Hajime sat up, his cheeks warming at Oikawa's closeness. Their gazes met for just a moment before Hajime looked away, busying himself with stuffing the hoodie back in his bag. 

Walking through the quiet streets of their hometown, Hajime was struck by a painful sense of nostalgia. He hadn't visited in three or four years, always finding some excuse to miss birthdays or other family events. It wasn't hard coming up with excuses; work ate up most of his time, and there had been a few years where Chiaki was old enough to visit Tokyo by himself and Hajime could buy him a train ticket instead of travelling home himself. Chiaki had turned him down the last few times he offered. 

They rounded the corner and Hajime's house came into sight. Someone had tied balloons outside the front door, reminding him uncomfortably of childhood birthdays. Something about this impromptu visit felt _wrong_ , and on top of the fact that he still had no idea how he'd ended up at Oikawa's place or what had happened between them, the sight was deeply unsettling in a way he couldn't quantify. 

"Here we are at last," Oikawa said, pushing open the gate. 

Hajime followed, but as they walked up to the house, Oikawa took his hand. 

"What're you doing?" Hajime hissed. "They'll see."

Oikawa gave him a frosty look. "That's the _point_ , Iwa-chan," he said in a sniffy voice. "I don't know what I've done to piss you off today, but I don't want your family to think we're fighting."

Hajime looked back at him, dumbfounded. "Then—they know?"

Rolling his eyes, Oikawa made a noise of great suffering and reached out to ring the bell. "Enough sarcasm, Hajime, please? Today is stressful enough."

"But—"

Hajime didn't have time to formulate a response to that. The door swung wide, and after a hastily gasped, 'Nii-chan! Tooru-nii!' from Chiaki, he found himself pulled into a crushing hug by his little brother. 

"You made it! Happy birthday!"

"Chiaki?" Hajime said, too stunned at first to hug him back. "What—what're you doing here?"

"Hello, Chiakkun," Oikawa said fondly. Hajime caught a glimpse of his expression over Chiaki's shoulder and was surprised by how his placid mask had softened. It was the same way Oikawa had looked at him that morning; peaceful and happy.

Chiaki finally released him, and moved over to seize Oikawa in an equally eager hug. Oikawa hugged him back, laughing softly. "It's good to see you, Chiakkun," he said, squeezing him so tightly that Hajime heard something in Chiaki's shoulders crunch. "You look well." Oikawa looked over and winked at Hajime. "Good looks run in the family."

"Oi _kawa_ ," Hajime said in shock. 

"Are you worried I'm going to swap you for the younger model, Iwa-chan?" Oikawa asked as he stepped back from Chiaki. "Now that you're getting old."

Hajime gaped at him, but Chiaki just laughed loudly. "I'm flattered, Tooru-nii," he said, grinning. "But I definitely couldn't handle you."

Hajime felt like his eyes were going to fall out of his head. "What?"

"That's right," Oikawa said, looking pleased. He reached for Hajime's hand again. "Come on, Iwa-chan, I need to seduce the rest of your family."

" _What?_ "

"Chiaki-chan will bring our suitcases," Oikawa said in a sickly sweet voice, turning to flutter his eyelashes at Chiaki. "Won't you Chiaki-chan?"

"Chiakkun, don't you dare," Hajime said quickly, tugging his hand free of Oikawa's. "I've got it."

"How unexpectedly chivalrous of you, Iwa-chan."

Chiaki looked between them, and reached up to rub the back of his neck, frowning. "Is everything okay? You guys seem weird today."

"Just a late night and a long journey," Oikawa said brightly, slinging an arm over Chiaki's shoulders. "It's not interesting in the slightest, I want to hear about you. How's your course going?"

"It's...good," Chiaki said, heaving a sigh. "I don't know, it's hard work. My exams were really tough this year."

Hajime looked up in surprise. "Wait, what? You're studying now?"

They both turned and looked at him; Chiaki smiling uncertainly, while Oikawa just looked surprised, maybe a little worried. 

"Did you hit your head or something?" Chiaki joked. He reached over to grab one of the bags from Hajime's hand. "Maybe I'd better take this after all."

"You carry the bag, Chiakkun," Oikawa said, reaching to touch Hajime's arm. "I'll carry Iwa-chan." 

"Over my dead body," Hajime grumbled, though he noticed that Oikawa didn't try to take his hand again. 

"Ignore your idiot brother, Chiakkun," Oikawa said tartly. "When do you get your exam results back?"

Hajime followed them into the house, listening to the conversation with growing confusion. He didn't interrupt again, unsettled by the strange looks they had given him, and the way Oikawa's seemed to be equal parts irritated and worried.

"I'll put these upstairs," Chiaki said once they were inside and had kicked off their shoes. He reached to take the other bag from Hajime's unresisting hands. "Mom and Dad are out back getting everything set up."

"Set up?" Hajime asked curiously, but Chiaki had already taken off, climbing the stairs two at a time. 

He turned on the spot and found Oikawa waiting and watching him, though he looked away as soon as Hajime caught him. 

"Well, Iwa-chan," Oikawa said, putting his hands on his hips. "Are you going to bite me if I try to hold your hand again?"

Hajime eyed him suspiciously. "You really want to hold hands in front of my parents?"

"Oh, fine," Oikawa snapped, making a helpless gesture with his hands and turning away from him. "Come on then, let's go and say hello."

Bewildered, Hajime followed Oikawa as he trudged through the house and opened the door to the garden. 

"Auntie!" Oikawa shouted as he flung open the door and stepped outside in his bare feet. "Uncle! We've arrived!"

Hajime's parents both shouted back in greeting, but Hajime barely noticed them. The garden had been decorated with strings of lanterns, balloons and banners. There were chairs and tables, and a set of speakers was playing some of his father's weird swing music. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Oikawa get swept up into a huge hug by Hajime's mother, and then his father clasped Oikawa's forearms, beaming at him. 

"What—what is all this?" Hajime asked quietly. 

"We might have gone a _little_ overboard," his mother said, before grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him into a hug. "Oh, Hajime-chan, it's so good to see you."

Hajime blinked, and awkwardly lifted his hands to pat her on the back. "Uh, yeah—you too, Mom."

"Did Chiakkun let you in? Gosh, hasn't he grown? I feel like you boys never stop getting taller, or maybe I'm getting smaller. How was the journey? Are you tired?"

"Let him breathe, Mayumi-chan," Hajime's father said, laughing. "You've got all weekend to ask him questions."

Hajime's mother released him, laughing softly and wiping her eyes. "I can't help it, my little boy is all grown up."

"Oh, Auntie," Oikawa said in mock sympathy, putting his arm around her shoulders. "You wouldn't say that if you saw the state of our apartment."

"Oi," Hajime said, scowling. "That's all you, you giant slob." The words were out before Hajime even stopped to think what he was saying. But he and Oikawa hadn't shared an apartment in nearly ten years, and while he didn't doubt that Oikawa's gross habits were the same as always, there was no reason for him to play into the argument. 

Oikawa smirked at him. "Auntie, don't listen to him," he said in a stage whisper. 

"Sit down, both of you," she said, waving Oikawa off. "You must be hungry after that journey. Call Chiakkun, would you, Hajime?"

Chiaki joined them, and the five of them sat down to eat a haphazard meal of rice and odd dishes and leftovers. To Hajime's relief, Oikawa and Chiaki carried the majority of the conversation, and he sat and listened in growing confusion to Chiaki talk about his architecture degree, and living in Kyoto. The last he'd heard, Chiaki was sharing an apartment in Sendai with a girlfriend and working in an electronics store. 

"Hey, Tooru-nii, is Takeru coming later?" Chiaki asked, reaching across Hajime for the soy sauce. 

Oikawa laughed. "You'd know better than me, Chiaki-chan, but I think so."

"Good!" Chiaki said, grinning. "We should all play volleyball."

"We didn't get everyone together for you all to spend hours hitting a ball at each other," Hajime's father said, but he didn't seem annoyed. He caught Hajime's eye and rolled his eyes, smiling in a way that Hajime hadn't seen since he was a teenager. Hajime returned it weakly. 

"So," Chiaki said, turning to Hajime. "How're you doing? How's work?"

"Oh, yeah," Hajime said, remembering suddenly his strange conversation with Hashimoto that morning. "Busy."

Oikawa turned to them with a wicked grin. "Iwa-chan, tell them about your admirer."

Hajime blinked at him. There was a new temp in Planning who Hajime's assistant was adamant had a crush on him, but he had no idea how Oikawa could have found out. He blinked, confused. "Uh, what?"

"You know," Oikawa said in a wheedling voice. "The woman with the back injury, the one with pots of money."

"Oikawa, what the fuck are you talking about?"

"Hey," Hajime's mother said, and whacked him on the shoulder with a wooden spoon. "Language."

"I win!" Oikawa said, beaming. "Iwa-chan got told off first."

"Don't gloat, Tooru," Hajime's mother added, giving him a much more gentle tap on the arm. 

"Well anyway," Oikawa went on, unapologetic. "If Iwa-chan is too embarrassed, I can tell you the story."

"I'm not embarrassed, bastard," Hajime snapped, earning himself another rap on the shoulder. "I just don't know what—"

"So Iwa-chan has this patient," Oikawa went on, ignoring him completely. "In her...fifties?" He paused and glanced at Hajime for confirmation, and frowned when he didn't get it. "Anyway, she was in this car accident that messed up her back, and she's been coming to see Iwa-chan for a few months. And, honestly, she's absolutely shameless, it's an inspiration. She's always getting handsy with Iwa-chan, and asking him to come and be her live-in masseuse."

Hajime's father made a face. "I suppose if she's so rich, she can afford to be inappropriate."

"I don't know, dear," Hajime's mother said in a sly voice. "I wouldn't mind a nice young man around to rub my shoulders every day."

"Ugh, _Mom_ ," Chiaki said, wrinkling his nose. 

"Honestly," Oikawa said, picking up his glass. "I'd have said yes if it were me."

"Nobody asked," Hajime snapped, bringing the conversation to a stumbling halt. He could sense his family exchanging awkward looks around them, but he barely noticed. Patients? Masseuses? Was everyone playing a practical joke on him?

"You're quiet today, Hajime dear," his mother said as he helped her clear the table after their meal. 

"Just...a lot on my mind," he fibbed. 

"Nii-chan!" Chiaki called out from where he stood in the doorway. "Did you see the garden?" 

Hajime's heart clenched. "Yeah, it looks great. Did you do it?"

Chiaki grinned. "Dad did most of it, but I helped. I put up the lights."

"There are lights?"

"You did a wonderful job, Chiaki-chan," said Oikawa, stepping up behind Hajime and resting his chin on Hajime's shoulder. 

For a split second Hajime tensed, but it must have been enough for Oikawa to notice, because he moved away a moment later. 

"Hajime, do you want to change or anything?" his mother called out. "Your friends will be here soon."

Hajime glanced at Oikawa. "My friends?"

"Come on," Oikawa said, grabbing his wrist. "Let's find you something sexy to wear."

"Oi _kawa_ ," Hajime said, his ears turning scarlet. His parents just acted as though they hadn't heard. 

Oikawa took no notice of Hajime's protest, and Hajime soon found himself dragged upstairs to his childhood bedroom. The door was open, and Chiaki had left their bags just inside the room. 

"Oh," Hajime sighed, looking in. "It's different."

"What're you talking about?" Oikawa asked, stepping inside. "It looks the same way it always has."

Hajime swallowed the lump in his throat. When he finished university, he had come home and cleared out his room, packing all his old photos and high school memories into boxes, throwing out old clothes and junk. But in this—wherever he was—everything was still here. The corkboard was stuffed with photos, ticket stubs, training regimens and diet plans, notes that had been passed to him in class. The sleeve of his Seijou jacket poked out of his wardrobe, caught in the closed doors. On his desk were books he _knew_ he'd gotten rid of years earlier.

Crossing to the window, Hajime looked out into the garden. Takeru had arrived, and he and Chiaki were tossing a ball back and forth and laughing about something. Hajime had never considered himself to be particularly sentimental, at least not with regard to keepsakes, but looking around now he felt a sharp pain in his stomach that had nothing to do with what he'd eaten. A rush of nausea swept through him and Hajime reached out to rest his weight against the windowsill. As he did so, he knocked something over with his fist.

It was a snow globe. Much like the one Oikawa had brought him from Nagoya, except that this one held a seaside scene, with the word _Kamakura_ emblazoned beneath. Hajime's breath stuttered in his chest. He knew he'd gotten rid of that snow globe, years before. He'd been angry when he threw it away, and he clearly remembered holding it in his hand and running his thumb over the embossed word before tossing it in the bin. 

It struck him at last, what he'd half suspected since he woke but hadn't quite believed. This wasn't his life. Somewhere—or some _when_ —Oikawa was still furious with him. Somewhere he was still alone, and miserable, and had driven Oikawa away for good.

Quickly, before Oikawa could see, Hajime snatched up the souvenir and shoved it in his bag. He felt the smooth surface of it, warmed by sitting in the sun, and pushed it down, hiding it beneath his clothes.

Oikawa, who had been rummaging in his own bag, straightened up, the smile falling off his face. "Hajime, what is it?"

Hajime shook his head, biting his lip furiously to try and hold back his tears.

"Hajime," Oikawa said again, the softness in his voice pure agony to hear. 

A sob burst up out of Hajime's chest. "O-Oikawa, I—"

Oikawa reached out and pulled him into a fierce hug, and this time Hajime didn't resist. He buried his face in Oikawa's shoulder and hugged him back tightly. He felt Oikawa's hand come up and rub slow circles between his shoulder blades as he cried, then he reached up and cradled Hajime's head, turning to kiss him on the temple.

"What's wrong, Hajime?" he asked softly. "Please tell me."

Hajime just shook his head and clung on more tightly as he was wracked with another sob.

"Shh, it's okay," Oikawa soothed, fingers running through Hajime's hair. "It'll be okay."

"I d-don't know wh-what's going on," Hajime sobbed. "Everything's d-different, and I—I—I can't—"

"Hey," Oikawa murmured, pulling back. He cupped Hajime's face between his hands and wiped the tears off his cheeks with his thumb. He looked very serious, but his expression was so gentle, it was almost unfamiliar. "Do you want to leave?"

Hajime blinked. "Leave?"

"Yeah, we can go to my parents, or to a hotel." Oikawa smiled. "Fuck it, we can get the train back to Tokyo if that's what you want. If it's too much—"

"No, no," Hajime said, shaking his head. "I want to see Chiaki—and Mom and Dad, I think."

Oikawa frowned. "And everyone else? Are you sure? I'm worried about you, you've been strange all day."

"I'm sure."

"Mm, if you say so," Oikawa murmured, looking unconvinced. He leaned in and kissed Hajime on the mouth before he had time to react, but it was sweet and brief, over in a moment. "Why don't you take a nap, I'm sure you'll feel better if you sleep."

Hajime nodded, and sat down on one of the made up futons. "Don't let me sleep too long."

Oikawa crouched beside him and ran his fingers through Hajime's hair. "I won't. Get some rest."

Hajime closed his eyes, and tried not to think about how nice it felt to have Oikawa's fingers in his hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love you?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
>  **warning:** there's a brief content warning in the end note but nothing too heavy

An hour later Oikawa shook him awake again. Hajime sat up, blinking in confusion for a moment until he remembered where he was. Oikawa crouched beside him, looking pensive.

"Everyone's here," Oikawa said, rocking back on his heels and folding his arms over his knees. "You want to come down?"

Hajime cleared his throat and frowned. "Everyone?"

"Well...I'm sure there will be a couple of latecomers," Oikawa said, rolling his eyes. "Mattsun's usually fashionably late. Are you feeling better?"

"I—yeah," Hajime muttered, looking again around his old bedroom. A tight band fastened around his lungs, making it hard to breathe. He looked down at the sheets, trying to blot out the trove of recovered memories. "Much better."

Oikawa nodded, then pushed himself to his feet. He picked up Hajime's backpack and pulled out a handful of clothing. Hajime felt a brief flash of panic, but Oikawa didn't seem to notice the hidden souvenir. Instead, he held up two t-shirts and smiled.

"Now—green or blue?"

"Either is fine."

"Green then," Oikawa said, tossing him a rolled up shirt. "I like the way you look in green."

Hajime's ears burned. He wasn't sure of the appropriate response to such a direct compliment; it wasn't like them to give one another such outright praise, but things were different here. Hajime wondered how long they'd been together in this world. "Thanks," he mumbled, turning away to hide his embarrassment.

With his back turned to Oikawa, Hajime slipped off his t-shirt and pulled on the fresh one. When he straightened up, Oikawa was standing in the doorway waiting; he put on a weak smile when Hajime caught his eye. 

"Ready to face your adoring fans?"

"I guess so."

There was nobody in the house when they walked downstairs, but Hajime could hear voices outside, and music playing. He cast a curious look at Oikawa, who just smiled and nodded in the direction of the door. "Go on, everyone's waiting."

Ignoring his instincts screaming at him to run in the other direction, Hajime stepped out into the garden. He caught his breath sharply. The garden was full of people, talking and laughing in small groups, passing around beers or cups of juice. He spotted Oikawa's family, and his cousins and Aunt, and Kyoutani and Hanamaki—the more he looked around, the more people he recognised, and he had to stop and catch his breath at the rush of affection and nostalgia. 

Oikawa's parents waved him over, and Hajime let himself be pulled into a hug first by Takeru, and then Oikawa's sister, while Oikawa's mother and father clasped his hands and wished him a happy birthday. They asked him a few questions which he mumbled vague responses to, before Oikawa swooped in and pulled him to one side, making some excuse about stealing him away.

"Hajime," Oikawa said in a low voice, handing him a small plate of food. "Are you sure you're alright with this? You're being really—"

"Iwaizumi!"

Oikawa swore under his breath, but he was all smiles when a crowd of their ex-teammates came over to greet them. Hajime accepted hugs from Hanamaki and Matsukawa, and a kiss from Matsukawa's wife Keiko. Yahaba and Kindaichi greeted him too, along with two teammates who'd been in the year above him, Hoshida and Honda. 

"I—I can't believe you're all here," Hajime said, looking around at them in disbelief. 

"Almost all," Matsukawa said, with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. "But I think being in America is a pretty good excuse for Kunimi to skip."

"America—?"

"Oh! I see mad dog-chan," Oikawa said, peering over the crowd with his hand raised to his eyes. "Is that Yue-tan with him?"

Hajime looked where he was pointing and noticed Kyoutani standing with his little sister Yue, who had been in the same class as Chiaki and Takeru. 

"Yoohoo, Yue-tan!" Oikawa yelled, raising his arm to wave. Kyoutani scowled at him, but Yue turned and waved back, grinning at them. 

"Wow," Hajime said, staring at her. He had last seen Yue three or four years earlier, around the time Chiaki and Takeru graduated from Seijoh. The three of them had been close friends through school, but as far as he knew they had drifted apart after graduating. It was a surprise to see them all standing together now. "Yue's really pretty now, huh?"

Oikawa glanced at him. "I thought you preferred the angry puppy version, Iwa-chan," he said in a barbed voice.

Again, Hajime felt a blush chase across his face, turning his ears pink. Kyoutani chose that inopportune moment to meet Hajime's eye and raise his hand in a subtle greeting. Hajime nodded awkwardly, then scowled at Oikawa's smug face. "Even if I did," he said quietly, "I'm not gonna talk about it here."

Looking distinctly put out, Oikawa turned away from him, and struck up a conversation with Matsukawa and Keiko instead.

"You okay, Iwaizumi?" Hanamaki asked after a few moments, slinging an arm around his shoulders. "You look kinda shaken."

Hajime swallowed. "I just—I didn't expect so many people."

"Yeah, well, you're our favourite. We weren't about to miss it."

Oikawa must have been eavesdropping, because Hajime suddenly heard an indignant voice behind him.

"Makki! I thought _I_ was your favourite!"

"Actually, Watari's my favourite," Hanamaki said, glancing across the garden to where Watari stood laughing with Yahaba and some other people Hajime only vaguely recognised. It was a long time since he'd seen most of them in person, at least in his own universe. 

"Yo, Watari!" Hanamaki yelled, waving across the garden.

Watari raised a tentative arm and waved back.

"See?" Hanamaki said, arm tightening around Hajime's shoulders. "He loves me."

Hajime rolled his eyes and heard Oikawa scoff, echoing his sentiment. It was strangely unsettling to be on the same page as him, this man who was and wasn't the one he knew so well. 

"I saw some of Karasuno hanging around too," Hanamaki said in a thoughtful voice. "Sawamura, and uh—what's his friend called again?"

"Azumane?" Hajime suggested, at the same time as Oikawa said, "You mean Sugacchi?"

Hanamaki gave them both a thumbs up. "Those guys."

"Maybe I'll go and look for them," Hajime said, already edging away from Hanamaki's clutches. "I should probably say hi to everyone."

"Abandoning us already?" Hanamaki asked. "You didn't even touch Mattsun's baby yet!"

"Babies plural," Matsukawa said, with a faintly hunted expression. "What have I done?"

Hajime forced a chuckle. "I'm sure Keiko doesn't want everyone grabbing her stomach. I'll—catch you guys later."

As he snuck away from the group, Oikawa turned to watch him go. His gaze rested heavily on Hajime's back even after he turned away. 

As soon as he was free, Hajime was collared by a group of his relatives. They asked him questions about work, which he dodged, and teased him about Oikawa, which was somehow harder to respond to. He broke away from them at last, feeling sick and confused, only to bump straight into Sugawara, who he hadn't seen since university. 

"Iwaizumi!" Sugawara said, beaming at him. "It's so good to see you, happy birthday!"

"Oh, thanks, uh—"

"Have you seen Asahi and Daichi yet?"

Hajime shook his head. 

"Well, they're around somewhere," Sugawara said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Are you just home for the weekend?"

"I—think so?" Hajime said, realising he had no idea what Oikawa's plans were. He moved the conversation onto Sugawara instead, hoping that it would save him from having to talk about himself too much. "How are you anyway? It's been—a while?"

To his surprise Sugawara burst out laughing. "Iwaizumi! How many times are you going to make me apologize for canceling last month?"

Hajime froze. "Oh, uh—"

"I already promised never to ditch you for a hot date again," Sugawara said solemnly. "Isn't that enough?"

"I...yeah, no, of course," Hajime said, glancing around in the hopes that someone would interrupt them. There was nobody nearby. "Did the date work out?"

"You want me to tell you about it again?" Sugawara asked, looking sly. "Does Oikawa know how much you like hearing the sordid details of my sex life?"

Hajime's ears burned. "You're right, he—does get pretty jealous," he said, though he wasn't sure that was true. Oikawa never seemed particularly possessive of his girlfriends, and although he could be clingy, he'd never really minded Hajime having other friends. Maybe here he was different. Maybe them being together made things different. "I—I need to go," Hajime said suddenly, taking a step back. "Sorry, Suga I'll—catch you later?"

"Is everything alright?" Sugawara called after him, but Hajime was already walking away from him, hurrying across the garden toward the back of the house. 

He clattered through the screen door, kicking off his shoes behind him without looking. The downstairs bathroom was empty, and Hajime hurriedly closed and locked the door behind him. Even with the sound of music and laughter dulled, Hajime struggled to draw breath, his chest heaving. His fingers felt numb. When he raised them to his face, he found that his hands were shaking. Swearing softly, Hajime turned and pressed them down against the sink, trying to will some feeling into them. He stared at his reflection in the mirror and forced himself to take long, steady breaths. It felt as though his field of vision was narrowing, and Hajime forced himself to focus on the familiar details of his face.

There hadn't been time that morning to examine himself closely, but he could see clearly now how different he looked. His hair was longer, messier, closer to the way he'd worn it at university. There were no dark circles under his eyes from too many late nights and early starts, and his face was thinner, the crease in his brow less pronounced. Then there were the differences he'd noticed in the shower that morning, the trim waist and well-defined upper body. The things he'd let slip over the past few years. 

A soft knock came at the door. At first Hajime simply stood there, staring at his own bewildered expression. He'd almost forgotten about the party going on outside. He turned to the door as the knock came again, followed by a tentative voice.

"I'm so sorry to be rude, but will you be very long?"

It was Keiko, Matsukawa's wife. Hajime pressed himself back against the sink as though it might provide some escape if he pushed hard enough. 

"Hello?"

Hajime swallowed and forced his voice out. "Sorry," he croaked, and then louder, "Sorry, I'm just coming."

"Oh, it's just you, Hajime!" she called back. "I'm sorry to rush you, but these babies are sitting _right_ on my bladder."

Hajime winced. "It's—fine," he said, hesitating briefly. "Just a moment." He turned back to the sink and ran the cold water, splashing his face quickly and drying it on his t-shirt. Taking a deep breath, Hajime unlocked the door and stepped into the hallway. "Sorry about that, Keiko," he said, moving out of the way.

Keiko laughed and cupped a hand around her stomach. "Don't apologise, they just—" She paused, tilting her head to look at Hajime's face. "Hey, are you alright?"

"Fine," he muttered, taking two steps back and crashing against the wall. "Really, I—"

"Wait, wait," she said, catching hold of his wrist. The cheer had faded from her face, leaving only concern. "Iwaizumi, really, you don't look well."

"I'm fine," he lied.

Keiko made a face, her other hand tightening around her belly. "I really need to deal with this, but don't go anywhere, alright?"

Hajime shrugged, and Keiko nodded and slipped into the bathroom. He didn't particularly want to wait there for Keiko, but he didn't know where else to go. The thought of going upstairs to his cluttered bedroom again made his pulse hammer in his throat and his fingers feel tingly and numb all over again. He stood there instead, his back jammed against the wall, until she emerged a minute later looking relieved.

"I can't wait until these nine months are up," she said, cradling her stomach. She blew her fringe out of her eyes and gave Hajime a crooked grin. "Take my advice, never let that overgrown string bean knock you up. These little parasites are going to be even bigger than their father, I can tell."

Feeling so detached from himself, it was hard to respond, but Hajime managed a faint smile. "I'll make sure he wears a condom," he said.

Keiko reached out to touch his arm. "Sorry, I'm not very good at comforting people. Bring me a broken leg and I'm all set, but I'm no good at feelings."

Hajime took a deep breath and sighed it out. "Strangely enough, that does make me feel better," he said, pushing away from the wall. "I'm fine, Keiko, really."

"All the same, I think I should fetch Issei."

"What?" Hajime said, eyes widening. "No, please don't. I want everyone to enjoy themselves—"

"Hajime," she said, putting a hand on his shoulder and pushing him gently back against the wall. "I think you might be having a panic attack. Trust your doctor, alright? Just sit tight and I'll be back in a minute."

"I—okay," Hajime mumbled, hanging his head. "Just—don't tell Oikawa?"

Keiko pressed a finger to her lips, then she turned and waddled in the direction of the door. 

Hajime wasn't sure whether he stood there waiting for ten seconds or ten minutes, but it didn't feel like very long before Matsukawa was shaking him gently, hands clasped around his shoulders. 

"Iwa? You okay, man?"

Hajime nodded. "Hey, Mattsun."

Matsukawa leaned back and looked him over. "Well you don't _look_ like you're having a nervous breakdown."

Hajime snorted. "Keiko didn't say that."

"She implied it."

"You make everything so dramatic," Hajime said, rolling his eyes. "Everyone thinks Oikawa's the drama queen, you've got them all fooled."

Matsukawa grinned. "There's my boy," he said, and looped his arm around Hajime's shoulders. "So, what's bothering you? You two fighting?"

The thought of Oikawa brushing him off so coldly before made Hajime wince. "No. Not—exactly."

"Oh shit, you're not breaking up, are you?" 

"No!" Hajime protested. "We're not even togeth—uh—I mean, we're not even fighting." 

"Right, right," Matsukawa said. 

Hajime realised that he was being gently steered into the kitchen, the party worryingly close. He tried to blot it out, to focus on the things that he could see around him; the sensation of Matsukawa's arm against his neck, the smell of his deodorant.

"Sit," Matsukawa said, directing him to a seat.

"I really am okay," he ventured. "Keiko just overreacted."

Matsukawa raised an eyebrow. "You didn't say that, and I didn't hear it."

Hajime groaned and put his head in his hands. "I just—I don't get it. I don't get what's going _on_ here."

"You do know what day it is, right?" Matsukawa asked, leaning back against the kitchen counter. "You didn't hit your head or anything?"

"I don't think so." Hajime sighed. "Though it would explain a lot."

"Mm. You know you're freaking Oikawa out."

Hajime nodded, feeling sick. "Yeah, I—I know." He let his hands fall to his lap and risked a glance over his shoulder, looking out toward the garden. "I can't even explain what's going on in my head."

Matsukawa was quiet for several moments, brow creased in concentration. He hummed softly, a thoughtful sound that gave away the fact that he was planning something. Hajime looked at him expectantly. 

"Running away doesn't work with Oikawa," Matsukawa said at last. Hajime nodded dully. "So maybe we need to distract him instead."

"Distract him?" Hajime said doubtfully. "What're you gonna do, tip over the buffet table?"

Matsukawa grinned. "I've got something better than that."

 

 

Hajime had to hand it to Matsukawa. If there was one thing guaranteed to take Oikawa's mind off Hajime's state of mind—the only really surefire way in fact to distract as many people as possible without raising suspicion—it was volleyball. Not to mention, he found the ideal method of kickstarting the plan in a way that nobody could say no to.

"Nii-chan," Chiaki said excitedly, tugging on Hajime's arm like he was still a little kid. "Play with us, please? And get Tooru-nii to set for us!"

"Chiaki," their mother said with evident exasperation. "Really, you can play volleyball anytime."

"Not all together we can't," Chiaki whined. "We can have a proper game like this."

"What's this?" Oikawa asked, stepping in beside Chiaki and giving Hajime a guarded smile. "I get the sense I'm missing out on something exciting."

Chiaki brightened, obviously sensing his chance. "You'll play, won't you, Tooru-nii?"

"Play?" Oikawa asked, looking from Chiaki to Hajime with a puzzled expression. "Are we gambling or something?"

"Volleyball!" Takeru yelled, leaping up on Chiaki's back and nearly toppling the pair of them to the ground. 

"Boys!" Hajime's mother shouted, looking half-fond and half-annoyed. 

Oikawa burst out laughing. "Alright, Take-chan. I'll play if you'll be my ace."

Hajime found himself stung by the easy dismissal, and then felt guilty. He didn't even particularly _want_ to play volleyball, and if he did, the thought of getting to play side by side with Chiaki should have filled him with joy. But then he caught Oikawa's eye, and the glint in his gaze that meant he'd just scored a point, and had to look away.

"Please say you'll play?" Chiaki wheedled, tugging on his arm again. "Just one set?"

"Yeah," Hajime said, a genuine smile breaking across his face for the first time since the party began. "Let's do it."

Hajime's parents lived near the edge of town and the garden was unusually large. Chiaki and Takeru fetched the old volleyball net, setting it up on rusty poles while teasing one another mercilessly. 

Sensing Oikawa drawing closer, Hajime started forward to offer his assistance. Again, he felt Oikawa's stare pressing against his back.

When the makeshift court was prepared, they divided into three teams. A few people cried off, offering to referee or keep score instead, and the rest of the partygoers migrated toward the house, away from the chaos that was about to ensue. Oikawa, Sugawara and Chiaki captained the three teams, and Hajime pushed for his team to sit out the first set, eager to avoid too much time facing off against Oikawa across the net. He remembered only too well how intimately Oikawa knew his every strength and weakness; he could only imagine it would be worse here, where they were actually together. 

Watari, Yahaba and Matsukawa had joined Sugawara's team, while Yue played libero for Oikawa and Takeru. Kyoutani stood beside Hajime, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and occasionally grunting in approval or annoyance whenever Yue did something particularly impressive, or Oikawa something irritating. Only ten points in, it became clear that Oikawa's team were by far the more motivated, though Sugawara was giving Oikawa a run for his money. Each time Oikawa scored a point, he and Takeru would high-five, and then he would glance at Hajime, just for a second. 

"You okay, nii-chan?" Chiaki asked eventually, nudging him with an elbow. "You're grinding your teeth."

"I'm going to pummel him," Hajime grumbled.

Beside him, Kyoutani snorted. "Best idea I've heard all day."

As promised, the first game ended after one set—albeit a tense game that went to thirty points before Oikawa and Takeru finally triumphed—and Hajime's team switched in to take on the winners. 

"I hope you'll be a gracious loser, Iwa-chan," Oikawa said in a slimy voice, raising his hand and holding up his fingers in a peace sign. "We have to set a good example for the children."

"Oi, Iwaizumi," Sugawara called as he stepped off the makeshift court. Iwaizumi turned, and Sugawara gave him a terrifying grin and drew his finger across his throat. "Make it hurt."

"Suga!" Sawamura protested, grabbing Sugawara by the arm. "Stop stirring shit up."

"We have rather an abundance of setters, don't we?" Oikawa said, giving Sugawara an icy stare. 

Sugawara responded by sticking out his tongue, and then laughing until Sawamura gave him a not-so-gentle shove. 

Oikawa glanced at Hajime. "It must be nice to know you still have a fan club, Iwa-chan."

"Don't be jealous," Hanamaki said from the other side of the net, and cuffed Oikawa's ear. "It's Iwa's birthday, of course we're on his side."

Oikawa whined. "Makki!" he protested, rubbing his ear and pouting. "You're on _my team_."

Hanamaki shrugged. 

"Alright, come on," Hajime said, clapping his hands together. "Let's do this already."

Takeru served first, and Hajime wasn't surprised when Oikawa's team took three points straight out of the gate. They were already warmed up and had some idea of how to work together, not to mention Oikawa was still used to playing in some capacity. 

The thought pulled Hajime up short. If things were so different here, did Oikawa still coach? Had he even been injured? 

"Nii-chan, heads up!" Chiaki called suddenly. 

Hajime turned too late to get his arm under Oikawa's feint. He caught a flash of Oikawa's wicked grin, and then the ball thudded down at his feet. 

"Dammit," Hajime hissed. 

"Mm, it's just not the same playing on grass," Oikawa mused. "Don't you agree, Take-chan? You don't get that satisfying smack when the ball hits the floor."

Hajime scowled at him. "I can give you a smack if you want one that badly."

Kyoutani barked with laughter, and Takeru let out a snort. Oikawa's self satisfied smirk only intensified. 

"Good to have you back, Iwa-chan," he said, giving Hajime a sharp nod before turning back to his teammates. "Makki, give us a nice serve!" 

Chiaki picked up Hanamaki's serve, a look of fierce determination on his face as he sent the ball up to their libero, who jumped forward to set to Hajime. As he jumped, Hajime caught sight of Oikawa move, but too late, and he slammed the ball down just beyond Oikawa's reach. 

"Huh, you're right," he said, looking down at Oikawa on his knees. "It's not the same."

The rest of the set passed in a blur. It was a long time since Hajime had played at all, and although he was out of practice, moving in this body was much easier than he was used to. From the things Oikawa had said earlier, Hajime guessed that he was probably a physical therapist here—in this universe, this timeline, whatever he was going to call it. It was a career he'd thought about pursuing for a while, but his parents had been intent on him studying economics, and he'd caved to their wishes. 

"Your serve, nii-chan," Chiaki said solemnly, holding the ball out to him. 

Hajime accepted it, and Chiaki smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. "We just need five more points to win."

"Oikawa's the one you want hitting service aces," Hajime said with a faint smile.

Chiaki grinned back at him. "I believe in you."

"Thanks, Captain."

As Hajime took his place on the back line, he saw Oikawa moving into position on the wing. Hajime hadn't even known he was going to serve to the left until he saw Oikawa move and realised that's exactly where he would've put the ball. 

"Nice serve, Iwaizumi!" someone yelled, and several people off the court echoed it. There wasn't much space for a run up but he tossed the ball and jumped, bringing his arm down hard. 

"Tooru!" Takeru and Yue both shouted at once.

Oikawa dug in, but the ball ricocheted off his forearm and hit the wall. 

"Damn!"

Chiaki yelled in delight. "Service ace! You did it!"

"Don't mind!" Yue called. 

Someone threw the ball back to Hajime and he spun it between his fingers, waiting for the other team to get back in formation.

"One more nice serve!"

Hajime served to the right this time, and Yue skidded through the grass, sending the ball off wildly. 

"I've got it!" Takeru shouted, diving after it, but he was half a metre short and the ball rolled out.  
"Don't mind, Take-chan!" 

Hanamaki glanced through the net and grinned at Hajime. "Good thing we have all these kids to do the running around for us."

"Oh, as if Iwa-chan minds," Oikawa said flippantly. "He's always in the gym."

"I am?" Hajime asked without thinking.

Oikawa glanced at him. "Don't get me wrong, Iwa-chan, I'm not complaining about the results." He ran his eyes deliberately over Hajime, letting his eyes linger. "Not one bit. But I'd like you just as much if you let yourself get a little soft."

"Tooru, shut _up_ ," Takeru complained, groaning loudly. He picked up the ball and threw it at Oikawa, who yelped when it bounced off his shoulder.

Hajime couldn't help laughing despite his discomfort. "Sorry, Takeru."

"Can we play already?" Yue asked, setting a hand on her hip. "We're already losing players."

Following her gesture, Hajime noticed that Hanamaki had wandered off the court to talk to Sugawara and Matsukawa. 

"Makki!" Oikawa yelled, stamping his foot. "I can't achieve total domination without my middle blockers!" 

"Alright, alright," Hanamaki sighed, wandering back onto the court. "You seem tense, Oikawa. Is Iwa not letting you dominate him enough at home?"

Hajime spluttered, while Chiaki and Takeru both made exaggerated retching noises. Kyoutani muttered something 

"If you're so curious, Makki," Oikawa said in an airy voice, "I can tell you more about it later, when we're _not_ in the middle of a wholesome game of volleyball with my nephew."

"Promises, promises," Hanamaki sighed, taking up his position again.

The scores drew even again, but just as Oikawa's team drew ahead, Yue dove for a ball and stumbled when she tried to get up.

"Oh, fuck," she said, throwing out an arm and grabbing Takeru's shoulder. She was holding her right foot off the ground. "Guys? I think I might have to sit the rest out."

Kyoutani dove under the net and hurried to her side, with Chiaki close behind him. Between the three of them they helped her over to a chair, and Takeru ran off to fetch Keiko. 

"Poor Yue-tan," Oikawa said, frowning. He glanced across at Hajime. "I suppose that's our win then."

"Says who?" Hajime said, bristling. "You're down a player."

"Two, technically," Oikawa said with a dangerous smile. "And so are you by the looks of things."

Hanamaki rolled his eyes. "Would you two get a room already?"

"That's enough," Haime snapped. The back of his neck felt hot and itchy, and he had to look away from Hanamaki and Oikawa's startled expressions. "I'm gonna check on Yue."

It turned out that Keiko had passed the doctoring duties onto Sugawara, on account of him being able to bend over and crouch down properly. 

"It's just a strain," Sugawara pronounced, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

"Are you sure?" Kyoutani growled.

Yue looked horrified. "Nii-chan! Suga-san knows what he's doing, you know."

Sugawara laughed. "I should hope so, thank you, Yue-kun." He glanced up at Chiaki and Iwa. "Do you have ice in the house? It'll help prevent any swelling, and I can wrap it if you don't happen to have a compression brace lying around."

"I might have one upstairs actually," Hajime mused.

"I'll get the ice," Chiaki volunteered.

Takeru groaned. "I guess that means I'm the designated piggyback slave."

"Know your place," Yue intoned seriously. 

"Maybe we should head home," Kyoutani said, looking concerned.

"Nii-chan, I'm _fine_."

Takeru reached down and ruffled Yue's hair. "Let's go get that ice."

"Check in my room for that ankle brace!" Hajime called after them.

The three of them headed up to the house, Chiaki skipping ahead while Takeru trudged behind with Yue clinging to his back. Kyoutani watched them go with a tormented expression. 

"Feels almost like being a parent sometimes, doesn't it?" Hajime said, nudging Kyoutani's shoulder. 

Kyoutani grunted. "Pretty much raised that kid."

"Yeah. You did a good job."

Kyoutani turned pink and his scowl deepened. "Thanks." He glanced at Hajime and folded his arms, then unfolded them and put them in his pockets, shifting from one foot to the other. "You and Oikawa," he muttered. "It's none of my business, but...if he's being an asshole, I'll punch him for you."

Hajime was so surprised by the sentiment that he burst out laughing. "Sorry," he said, when Kyoutani scowled. "I, uh—I appreciate the offer." 

When he turned back, most of their players had wandered off, back to the party. Oikawa was chatting to Sugawara, the two of them giggling about something while Sawamura stood nearby looking pained. Hajime still felt embarrassed by Hanamaki's teasing. The thought of being so open with all his friends and family about his relationship was totally alien to him after so long spent in hiding. Hanamaki and Matsukawa knew that he was gay, but beyond asking him about the state of his love life occasionally, they never really discussed it. He and Suga had hooked up a couple of times while they were at university, but they'd barely had any contact since they graduated. 

"I'm gonna—check on the kids," Hajime said, scrambling for an excuse.

Kyoutani raised his eyebrows. "Rather you than me," he said cryptically, before turning and stamping away.

Doing his best to avoid getting roped into another conversation, Hajime made his way back to the house again. There was no sign of Chiaki or the others, and when he went up to his room to check he found it empty.

"Chiakkun?" he called, standing in the doorway of his empty bedroom. It still hurt to look at. He padded along the hallway and slid open Chiaki's bedroom door a short way. "Chiak—oh, shit." 

Hajime slammed the door shut again, though not fast enough to blot out what he'd seen. He heard a chorus of hissed voices on the other side and winced. 

"Sorry," he called through the door, before turning away. 

Oikawa found him a short while later, sitting on the step at the rear of the house. He spread his hands as he approached Hajime. 

"I come in peace, Iwa-chan." 

Frowning, Hajime moved along to make space for him. "Why peace? Are we fighting?"

"You tell me."

"I don't want to fight," Hajime said, shoulders slumping. He couldn't help remembering the way Oikawa had looked at him the night before, that vivid betrayal in his eyes before he turned and walked away. "I really—I hate fighting with you."

For several moments Oikawa was silent, but at last he sighed and leaned closer, so that their arms were touching. "Me too, Iwa-chan."

Hajime leaned back against him, and they sat in silence for almost a minute, watching the sun crawling over nearby rooftops as it started to set. 

"So uh," Hajime began at last. "I feel like I should keep my mouth shut about this, but if I don't tell someone, I'm going to burst."

"Oh?"

"Earlier on I accidentally walked in on Chiaki and Yue."

Oikawa blinked at him. "Walked in on—as in...?"

"Yeah," Hajime said, wincing. 

"Oh, wow," Oikawa said, looking away again. "Poor Take-chan."

Hajime bit back a grin. "Oh no, uh—he was there too."

This time Oikawa's wide-eyed stare was almost comical. " _What_?"

"Yeah," Hajime said, shrugging. "I didn't really stop to ask them what the deal was—"

"I should think not."

After a moment, Oikawa reached out and slipped his hand into Hajime's. "Hajime—"

Conscious of his family standing nearby, Hajime had already pulled his hand away instinctively. 

"Oh, _forget it_ ," Oikawa said, getting to his feet.

"Oikawa, wait—"

But Oikawa ignored him, and Hajime sank back onto the step alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **warning:** iwaizumi suffers a mild panic attack partway through the chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this might be the last chapter for a couple of weeks as I finish writing and also dive into nanowrimo and other projects, but I'll aim to finish asap - and it WILL be completed so fear not :)

It was late by the time Oikawa spoke to him again. Their guests had finally all left, and Hajime slipped away to his bedroom at the first opportunity. He was exhausted from pretending all day; exhausted from all the strange looks, from the confusion when he didn't know or remember something he should have. It felt as if he'd woken up with amnesia, and he'd double and triple checked the date on his phone to make sure he hadn't lost time.

He was already in bed when Oikawa slipped quietly into his dark bedroom and silently began to undress. Hajime knew that he should look away, but he couldn't bring himself to close his eyes. Oikawa stripped down to his underwear, and Hajime let his eyes roam over Oikawa's strong thighs, the curve of his backside and his soft stomach, the muddy smear of a grass stain on his shin from playing volleyball.

When Oikawa climbed into the futon beside him and pulled the thin sheet over himself, Hajime turned his gaze away through force of habit.

"Hajime?" Oikawa asked after a minute. "Are you asleep?"

Hajime swallowed. "No," he whispered. "Are you alright?"

Oikawa huffed a soft laugh. "I was going to ask you that." He took a deep breath and sighed it out. "I was really worried about you today."

"Yeah?" Hajime murmured, his heart in his throat. Somehow he was relieved that Oikawa knew things weren't normal, but he couldn't tell the truth. Oikawa would think he'd lost his mind. "Sorry for making you worry."

"Mm. Is something wrong? You were weird with everyone, not just me."

Hajime winced. "Just an off day."

"Is it work?"

"Oikawa—"

"Your family? This thing with Chiaki and Take-chan—"

"It's nothing!" Hajime snapped, and regretted his tone immediately. "Look, I just can't explain it."

Oikawa didn't respond. His silence made Hajime feel guilty, and maybe that was why he found himself blurting out the question that he'd been asking himself all evening.

"Do you ever wish you could do the last fifteen years of your life again?"

Oikawa was silent for so long that Hajime thought he must have already fallen asleep, but finally he rolled over onto his side and peered at Hajime in the dark. "Why do you ask?" he whispered.

"It's just a question."

There was a long pause, and when Oikawa finally spoke, his voice was soft. "Do you regret the last fifteen years, Hajime?"

"No," Hajime said. "At least, I don't think so."

Oikawa hummed softly, then reached out under the covers and gave Hajime a vicious jab in his side.

"Ow, fuck—what the hell?"

"You worried me, you bastard," Oikawa hissed.

"Ah—sorry."

"You've been having some existential crisis all weekend because you're getting old, and then you start asking me things like that? You're lucky you're not some boring salaryman or I'd start to worry you were cheating on me."

Hajime winced. He couldn't help but wonder how this Oikawa would feel if he knew what Hajime was really like. Would he be as sick of him as Hajime's own Oikawa seemed to be?

"You don't really think I'd do that," Hajime ventured.

"No," Oikawa sighed, reaching for his hand this time. "I know you wouldn't."

"Don't sound so disappointed."

Oikawa laughed softly, and brought Hajime's hand to his face, nuzzling the back of his wrist. "Actually…" he admitted at last, voice soft. "I thought you might, last summer."

Hajime stared at him. "What? Why?"

Oikawa shook his head, his hair rustling softly against the pillow. "When Dad got sick, and I came home to Miyagi." Oikawa sighed, fidgeting where he lay. "I don't know—you were so good, but everything else was so terrible. It was hard, you know? I don't think I handled it very well. I was convinced I would come home to Tokyo one weekend and find you gone."

"Tooru, that's crazy. I would never—"

"I know, I know," Oikawa said quickly, shrugging. "I'm sorry, I feel guilty that I even thought it."

Hajime sighed and turned his hand so that he could touch Oikawa's cheek, stroking his cheekbone with a thumbpad. "Don't apologise. You can't help how you felt."

Oikawa heaved another long sigh and relaxed against Hajime, pressing their legs together. "I don't deserve you, Hajime."

"Mm," Hajime hummed, pulling his hand away when he felt a sickening stab in his gut. "I—don't know about that."

Oikawa shrugged again, and Hajime caught the flash of him trying to smile as he ran back over what Oikawa had told him. "Wait," he said, frowning. "Your dad got sick?"

Oikawa was silent for a moment. "Is that a joke?"

Hajime winced. Of course, they were so much closer in this place, Oikawa wouldn't have kept it from him. "Yeah, sorry," he mumbled, feeling foolish.

"Forget it," Oikawa said, sighing. "Dad jokes about it all the time anyway. He says if you can't have a sense of humour about getting cancer, you might as well die."

"That sounds like him," Hajime said, trying to sound lighthearted. He hoped Oikawa couldn't tell that he was reeling. He remembered Oikawa visiting his parents last year; Hajime's mother had mentioned seeing Oikawa several times, but she'd never said anything about Oikawa's father. Had he been ill in Hajime's own universe too?

"Are things okay between us?" Oikawa asked at last, breaking the silence between them.

"Why do you ask?"

Oikawa huffed, and when he spoke again it was rimmed with impatience. "Just answer the question."

"Of course they are," Hajime said, grabbing Oikawa's hand and squeezing it. "Things are great. Things are...normal."

"Now _that's_ not true," Oikawa murmured, sliding closer to him. "Normally you'd be screwing my brains out by now."

Hajime jerked backward, scandalised by the idea of having sex within earshot of his family. "I would not."

"Such lies," Oikawa said, putting his hand on Hajime's hip and then reaching around to grab his ass. "Or maybe I should fuck you instead, although you're terrible at keeping quiet."

"Or we could just talk," Hajime said, hoping Oikawa couldn't hear the desperation in his voice.

"Fine," Oikawa purred, digging his fingers into Hajime's ass. "You talk, I'll get to work."

"Uh—"

"I mean," Oikawa said lightly. "I still owe you a birthday blowjob."

Hajime swallowed hard. "I—I'm not really in the mood. I had a lot to drink."

Oikawa leaned closer and tilted Hajime's head to press a kiss to the side of his neck. "Maybe I can get you in the mood," he murmured, fingers reaching further, touching Hajime between his legs.

"O—Oikawa," Hajime protested weakly, letting out a whimper when Oikawa's teeth dug into his shoulder.

It made sense that Oikawa would know his weak spots, but it unsettled him as much as it turned him on, and Hajime finally gathered the wherewithal to push him away. He tried to be more gentle than he had that morning, not wanting to upset Oikawa again.

"Please," he said, trying to smile. "I just don't want to right now."

Oikawa frowned as he pulled away. "Are you sure everything's okay?"

"Fine!" Hajime said too quickly. "Just—you know, long day and stuff. Uh, thanks though?"

"You're welcome," Oikawa muttered, sounding bitter. He pulled away from Hajime and rolled to face away from him. "Maybe next time you won't feel like you need to lie to me."

"Oikawa—"

"And _stop_ calling me that," Oikawa hissed, tugging on the thin sheet. "I'm going to sleep now."

The tone of his voice reminded Hajime painfully of their fight the previous night. It seemed unreal to him that it had happened only twenty-four hours earlier, and Hajime felt an overwhelming sense of hopelessness flood over him, pressing him down against the bed. It seemed that he upset Oikawa no matter what he did, or where he was. It took him a long time to fall asleep, but even then, he was fairly certain that Oikawa still lay awake and silent beside him.

 

 

The distance between them was even more pronounced the following morning. Hajime woke alone, and went downstairs to discover that Oikawa had already left to visit his own parents. Hajime's mother herded him to the table before he could ask anymore questions, and spooned him a bowl full of rice from the cooker.

"Now," she said, sitting him down and pushing the plate of leftovers toward him. "What're you two fighting about this time?"

Hajime reached for a pair of chopsticks. "Fighting?"

"I know Tooru almost as well as I know you and Chiakkun," she said sternly.

Hajime looked at her. "Mom, can I ask you a strange question?" She nodded, and Hajime bit his lip, pondering how to phrase it. "I—um, how do you feel about, uh—about me being gay?"

Her mouth flattened, and her frown made her look older, more severe. More like the mother he knew. "I suppose it was...difficult, at first," she said, glancing down at the table. After a moment she sighed and shook her head. "I feel guilty for saying that, but we were worried what people would think. What they might do." She paused and looked up at him with a sad smile. "I was relieved when you told me about Tooru."

His eyes widened. "You were?"

She nodded. "You two look out for each other. You always have in one way or another. I think you—you make each other stronger." She reached for his hand and squeezed his fingers tightly. "Whatever else happens, it's obvious how happy he makes you."

Hajime's throat felt tight. "It is?" he asked, in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Mm hmm. So you'd better go and get him, hadn't you?"

"Uh, yeah," Hajime muttered, looking away and blinking back the burning sensation in his eyes. "Can I eat first?"

"You're not going anywhere until you do," she said, laughing. "We're going to be eating leftovers for a week as it is."

Chiaki and his father had gone out to the store together, and once he had eaten, Hajime's mother insisted that he go and hunt for Oikawa rather than hanging around the house looking mournful. He called Oikawa as he stepped outside, but the call went straight to voicemail, and Hajime sighed and prepared himself for a hunt.

The first place he went to was Oikawa's parents' house, only to be informed that he'd been and gone. Oikawa's mother Saya invited him inside, and set a cup of tea in front of him before he could protest.

"He might have gone to the school, Hajime-chan," she said with a sympathetic smile as Hajime reluctantly slid into a chair. "He's in a funny mood today."

"Yeah, I thought he might be," Hajime said, reaching up to touch the back of his neck. "I think that's probably my fault."

"Don't think like that, sweetheart," Saya said, reaching over and resting her hand on his arm. "Tooru's quite capable of managing his own state of mind. And I think we both know he has a tendency to sulk."

Hajime offered her a wan smile. "Thanks, Auntie."

"Did you enjoy your birthday, dear?"

"Oh...yeah," Hajime said, nodding. "It was a surprise to see so many people there."

She laughed. "Well, you and Tooru have always been popular."

Hajime thought of his own group of friends, scattered and distant, how much they'd all grown apart. "I guess so," he mumbled, glancing down at his hands. He picked up his cup and drank half of the warm tea in one go, puzzling out what it was he wanted to say. The conversation with his own mother was still laying heavy on his shoulders, leaving him in a state of mild shock that he'd come out to his family here. Was this how things might be, if only he'd been brave enough to tell them sooner?

"Auntie," he ventured, setting his cup down when he felt his hand shake. "Can I ask a question? About Tooru?"

Saya tilted her head, frowning slightly. "I really don't know where he is, Hajime."

"No, not that—" Hajime said, shaking his head. "When, uh—that is, when did you first know that Tooru—liked men? When did he come out to you and Uncle?"

Saya looked surprised at first, but then she smiled and took the seat opposite him. "Is everything alright, Hajime?"

He looked down at his hands again. Growing up, Oikawa Saya had been like a second mother to him. She had cared for him when he was sick, fed and bathed and cuddled him. She'd been there when he and Oikawa fought, when they laughed, and she'd never once indulged Hajime's unspoken fear that he wasn't good enough for his friend.

"It's fine," he said thickly. "Things are fine, I just—I'm not sure how we fit together anymore."

Saya's brow creased in sympathy. "You've been together a long time, Hajime. It's only natural for things to change between you as you get older."

Hajime looked away. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything, this must be weird for you to hear."

"No, no," Saya said in a soothing tone. "That's alright, sweetheart. Tooru may be my boy but I care about you just as much, Hajime. I'm always here for you."

Hajime's eyes burned and he nodded in thanks.

"Finish your tea, then Tooru's sister can run you down to the school."

 

 

Oikawa wasn't anywhere to be found when Mikako dropped him off at Aoba Johsai. Hajime searched around the gym, their old club room, the courtyard at the back of the school where they used to eat lunch most days. He thought about trying to get up to the roof, but Oikawa wasn't much of a rulebreaker, and it was unlikely enough that he would have hopped the fence into the school without jimmying open a door as well.

From the school, Hajime walked to the nearby row of shops. The arcade they used to frequent had closed down and been replaced by a café, and their favourite café had been closed down in favour of a laundrette. As Hajime walked, he tried to rack his brain to come up with where Oikawa might be hiding. Calling him again had the same result as before; he was going to have to puzzle this one out himself, and hope that he knew this Oikawa well enough to guess.

Hajime walked along the main street, lost in his own head as he ran through their fight from the previous night over and over. A group of kids ran past him, yelling and screaming, forcing him to step off the pavement and into the street to make way for them. He scowled after them, but as he watched them skitter down the pavement, he had an idea.

The park wasn't far. He and Oikawa had played there when they were kids, and practiced on the basketball court. When they were older they'd taken Chiaki and Takeru there.

The climbing frame and slide had been replaced with new ones, but the swings were the same, their heavy chains starting to rust, the colourful seats faded. Oikawa sat on the blue seat, swaying gently, the toes of his trainers scraping the tarmac.

"Oikawa?"

Oikawa's shoulders stiffened, but he didn't turn around.

"Hello, Iwa-chan."

"What're you doing here?"

"I should've thought that was obvious," Oikawa said in a sniffy voice. "I'm hiding."

"Oikawa—I'm sorry about last night."

Oikawa shrugged. "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't bullshit me."

"Iwa-chan," Oikawa sighed. He sounded tired and worn. "I really don't want to fight."

Hajime felt like tearing his hair out. "I'm not trying to fight, I'm trying to apologise."

"Fine, fine," Oikawa said, shaking his head. "Apology accepted, let's forget about it."

"Oikawa," Hajime groaned in frustration.

Oikawa looked at him sharply. "Why are you calling me that if everything's so okay between us?"

Hajime blinked. _Shit_. "I—sorry, Tooru. I didn't think."

Oikawa snorted. "Whatever."

When Oikawa still didn't turn to look at him, Hajime went to the swing beside him and sat down so that he was facing in the opposite direction to Oikawa. He dug his heels into the dirt and pushed back a short way. Oikawa glanced over at him, then away again.

"You're still angry with me," Hajime said.

Oikawa's shoulders slumped. "I don't know what I am." He let his hand fall from the chain and his fingers brushed the back of Hajime's hand. "I'm worried that there's something you're not telling me."

Guilt made Hajime's stomach turn. "It's nothing like that."

Oikawa huffed. "There is _something_ though."

"It—has nothing to do with you."

"Right," Oikawa said, rolling his eyes.

"Really."

"If it's about you then it involves me too, Iwa-chan." Tooru moved his feet against the tarmac, swaying gently. "Is something wrong?"

"No—"

"Is it work? Are you sick? Is there someone else?"

"Tooru," Hajime said, laughing desperately.

Oikawa dropped his head into his hands with a groan. "I just—I want to help."

Hajime swallowed. He wondered when was the last time Oikawa had said something like that to him back home. When was the last time he'd tried to help Oikawa? "It helps that you're here," he said thickly. "I—I know how stupid that sounds, but I just—I didn't expect us to be here, you know? I kind of—I can't believe how lucky I am, just—just to be here right now." He laughed and kicked out at the metal frame of the swing set. "In this stupid playground, even."

There was a long silence, enough for Hajime to begin to feel self-conscious. Then, with a sudden movement, Oikawa jumped up from the swing and tugged Hajime to his feet.

"Oika—"

Oikawa yanked him into a hug, crushing the air out of his lungs and cutting him off mid-word.

"I'm the lucky one, Hajime," he murmured, squeezing him tightly. "Now stop scaring me, alright?"

"A-alright," Hajime said, wincing.

Oikawa pulled back, and nodded at him. "Let's go home."

The walk didn't take them past their old schools again, and Hajime was grateful that he would be spared that particular stroll down memory lane with Oikawa. Sometimes he felt as if all of their problems had started there, before they even went to university. A part of him almost wished he could go back, to change things between them before they began to sour.

"You're quiet today," Oikawa said, swaying against him as they walked along a small row of shops. "What's on your mind?"

Hajime glanced over at him. Oikawa seemed so cheerful here, which was strange to see, given how desperate he had been to leave Miyagi as a teenager. "Just thinking,"  
he said with a shrug.

"Mmm—?" Oikawa hummed, pressing for him to continue.

"I dunno," Hajime said with a sigh. "About school, I guess. How different we used to be. We wanted such different things then."

"Well, of course we did," Oikawa said, not sounding at all perturbed. "We were kids. Your priorities change as you get older. Other things become more important."

Hajime snorted. "When did you become so wise and reasonable?"

Oikawa looked mildly affronted. "I have always been extremely wise and reasonable."

Hajime actually laughed out loud at that, and Oikawa joined him after a moment. They passed the leisure centre, where Hajime used to take Chiaki for his swimming lessons, and where he and Oikawa had practiced volleyball during school holidays. The sight of it made Hajime's heart squeeze painfully. "I'm sorry though," he said in a sober voice. "That you had to give up volleyball. You gave up so much. I never really thought about that, and I'm sorry."

"Hajime," Oikawa said quietly, eyes wide and curious. "What on earth has gotten into you this weekend?"

"What?" Hajime said defensively.

Oikawa shrugged. "Fine, fine. I'll get it out of you eventually."

"Yeah," Hajime muttered to himself. "That's what I'm afraid of."

 

 

It was late afternoon when they got back from Miyagi. Oikawa had barely spoken to Hajime all afternoon, and as soon as they got back to the apartment he upended his bag on the couch.

"I think I'm going to do laundry," he said, looking up at Hajime and putting his hands on his hips. "Shall I throw your things in at the same time?"

Hajime shrugged. "You don't have to."

"I don't have a full load anyway," Oikawa said, reaching for Hajime's backpack. "You relax."

"Oh, thanks," Hajime said awkwardly. "I could, uh—make some tea?"

Oikawa nodded. "Thank y—hm? What's this?"

"What—?" Hajime turned just in time to see Oikawa pull his hand out of the bag with the _Kamakura_ snow globe cradled in his palm.

"Iwa-chan," Oikawa said in an affectionate tone, laughing softly. "Where did you find this old thing?"

Hajime swallowed. Part of him wanted to reach out and knock the thing out of Oikawa's hand. "I picked it up at him," he said, turning away. "I—I thought I'd lost it. Just put it anywhere."

"I won't be long," Oikawa said, setting the globe on the coffee table and straightening up again with an armful of clothes.

"Fine."

The apartment door closed quietly behind him and Hajime finally turned to look at the snow globe. So they had been to Kamakura here as well. Oikawa had shaken it before setting it down, and the flakes inside were still settling. Hajime's fingers clenched into a fist, and he made himself look away before he smashed it.

While Oikawa was gone, Hajime finally took the chance to look around the apartment. It reminded him a great deal of the apartment they'd shared briefly during university, only _more_. There was the same untidy mishmash of their belongings: drifts of books belonging to Oikawa; piles of hastily folded laundry; a twisted blanket on the couch that he recognised as his own from long ago. The apartment was colourful and homey, and the smell of Oikawa in the space filled him with longing.

Hajime walked slowly around, taking in little details, and stopping when he reached the fridge. There were photos stuck to the front of it with various novelty magnets. Half covered by a photo of them standing with their arms around one another was a note, which Hajime recognised with a start as his own handwriting.

 

_things I don't hate about you_

  * _your dumb bedhead_
  * _the way you smell (especially when you're sweaty and gross)_
  * _your shitty singing_
  * _you always know what i'm thinking_
  * _kissing you_



 

Hajime looked away, his face hot. He couldn't imagine writing such a note to anyone, let alone to Oikawa. Maybe he'd done it under duress.

He was still standing in the kitchen, lost, when Oikawa returned.

"Iwa-chan!"

"In here," Hajime replied tonelessly.

Oikawa looked round, smiling. "Hey, what did you—oh, no tea?"

Hajime winced. "I forgot. Sorry."

"Never mind," Oikawa said, shrugging. "I might go out instead, get some fresh air while the laundry's on."

"Okay."

Oikawa leaned closer and flicked Hajime's shoulder. "Want to go for a run?"

Hajime laughed under his breath. "Sure, why not? I haven't been running in ages."

Oikawa scoffed. "Three days is hardly _ages_ , Hajime."

"Right, yeah," Hajime said awkwardly. "You're right."

"I usually am," Oikawa said lightly.

"Modest too."

Oikawa winked at him, and for a moment things were normal between them, as though Hajime was back home where he belonged. As though everything was still so easy between them.

"Go and change," Oikawa said, watching him with a fond expression. "I'll warm up."

Almost as soon as they set out, Hajime started to feel better. They ran for almost an hour, barely speaking except to confirm which direction they would take, or check in with each other. The silence and the routine of exercise helped to clear Hajime's head, not to mention his body had far better stamina than he was used to. He had barely broken a sweat by the time Oikawa was sweating and gasping at his side, but when Hajime suggested that they take a break, Oikawa only glared at him.

Running alongside him, listening to his heavy, rhythmic breathing, felt almost as intimate to Hajime as lying beside him the previous night. This had so long been a part of who they were _together_ ; endless practices, suicide sprints, long early morning jogs before school. Hajime had once known the capabilities of Oikawa's body almost better than his own. This Hajime, the one that belonged here, probably still did.

They reached the apartment again at last, Oikawa looking the worse for wear.

"No wonder," he gasped, clinging to Hajime's shoulder, "those kids run rings around me."

"Kids?" Hajime asked without thinking.

Oikawa nodded. "At school. The little shits."

Hajime looked at him in surprise. He hadn't yet asked what Oikawa did for fear of raising suspicion, but he'd assumed Oikawa would be doing something different to coaching in this universe. The last few times they'd seen one another, all Oikawa had talked about was how much he hated his job, how coaching had sucked all the remaining fun out of volleyball.

"I need to get back in shape," Oikawa groaned as he stretched out. He glanced at Hajime. "Any chance of a massage, Iwa-chan?"

Hajime tried not to think about how much he wanted to put his hands on Oikawa. "Maybe later," he muttered, shoving his hands in the pockets of his shorts. "You need help stretching?"

Oikawa shook his head. "You can have the shower. I'll just lie here and expire quietly."

"You never do anything quietly," Hajime said, selfishly hoping to make Oikawa smile before he turned away.

Oikawa didn't disappoint. He let out a breathless cackle, then flung his balled up socks at Hajime, spurring a hasty retreat.

 

 

After they had both showered, Oikawa pulled up a movie and settled down on the couch, wearing a hoodie that Hajime was certain was his own.

"Join me, Iwa-chan?" he asked, patting the empty space.

Still wary, Hajime took a seat at the other end of the couch. Oikawa didn't seem to notice, or at least did a good job of hiding his displeasure. They both settled down to watch, although Hajime struggled to focus. This scene felt so easy, so domestic; normally Hajime spent his evenings at work, eating alone or maybe drinking with Hanamaki, since everyone else they knew had shacked up with partners.

As the movie drew on, Oikawa started fidgeting. At first it was barely noticeable, but he didn't _stop_ , just kept shifting around impatiently until Hajime turned and scowled at him. "Oi. What is it?"

Oikawa blinked at him. "What?"

"You keep moving." He glanced to where Oikawa's hand was still on his own shoulder. "Your arm bothering you?"

"It's nothing, Iwa-chan," Oikawa said brightly.

Hajime sighed and drew his legs up onto the couch, then patted the edge of the seat in front of him. "Come on, sit down here."

"Are you sure?" Oikawa murmured, though he was already moving to sit on the floor in front of Hajime's seat.

Unable to resist, Hajime reached out and ruffled Oikawa's hair with one hand as Oikawa settled down before him. He expected Oikawa to complain, or maybe retaliate, but instead he hummed softly and tilted his head into Hajime's touch.

"Mm...Hajime," Oikawa sighed, relaxing slightly. The scent of his shampoo filled Hajime's nose, heady and spicy.

Hajime's ears burned. "R-right," he said, withdrawing his hand quickly. "Tell me where it hurts."

Oikawa shrugged. "Same place as usual."

"Your shoulder?" Hajime asked, reaching out and gently resting his palms over Oikawa's shoulders.

"Mmm."

Hajime couldn't remember the last time he'd given someone a massage. Oikawa had probably been his last victim, back when they still lived together. He ran his hands lightly from the joint of Oikawa's neck, out across his shoulders.

"This, uh—" He hesitated and patted the neck of the hoodie Oikawa was wearing. "Might be in the way."

Oikawa laughed quietly. "If you wanted to get me out of my clothes, Iwa-chan…"

"Shut up," Hajime mumbled, grateful that Oikawa couldn't see his red cheeks. He waited until Oikawa had shrugged off the hoodie, then tugged him back against the couch with a little too much force. "Sit still," he warned, running his hands across Oikawa's bare skin. Beneath him, Oikawa shivered, and Hajime bit his lip hard. He already felt conflicted about getting close to Oikawa, let alone an Oikawa who thought he was someone he wasn't.

With slow, hesitant movements, Hajime started to massage Oikawa's shoulders. He felt the skin shifting over muscle, testament to the fact that Oikawa still kept _somewhat_ in shape, whatever he might say. Oikawa sighed, and Hajime reached down, pressing his thumbs more firmly into the soft meat beneath Oikawa's scapulae.

Oikawa let out a throaty sound and dropped his head forward, but just as Hajime expected him to complain about it hurting, he moaned softly. "You're so gentle tonight," Oikawa murmured.

"Uh," Hajime said, wincing. "Is that—bad?"

Oikawa groaned again and shook his head. "I mean—I don't _mind_ it when you pummel me, but you always make it seem like you only have two settings—sports massage extreme, or nothing."

"Right," Hajime said, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. It didn't seem to matter _what_ he did, he just kept fucking things up. "I've—been practicing."

"I'm not complaining," Oikawa said, humming happily. After a few minutes he turned and looked over his shoulder, reaching up to still Hajime's hands. "Your hands aren't getting tired, are they? Want me to grab the massage oil?"

Hajime forced his face to make a smile. "Sure."

Oikawa pushed himself up and pressed a kiss to Hajime's lips before Hajime had a chance to react. By the time he felt it, Oikawa was already clambering to his feet and over the back of the couch to go hunt in their bedroom. He came back a minute later, dropping the bottle of oil in Hajime's lap as he dropped back to sit cross legged in front of him again.

The oil on his skin made Oikawa twitch and shiver again, but it made Hajime's hands glide over his neck and shoulders more easily. It smelled strongly of lemongrass, sweet and crisp on the back of his tongue.

Hajime wasn't even sure what he was supposed to be doing, but the noises Oikawa made were a useful guide. He stroked the back of Oikawa's long neck, knuckling at the base of his skull and then dragging the pressure down either side of his spine. Oikawa made a sound that gripped Hajime by the stomach, twisting pleasure and anticipation in his gut. There was a dark line where his tan from the day before met the paler skin beneath the shirt he'd been wearing, and Hajime badly wanted to lean in and kiss him there.

He pushed Oikawa away instead, running his hands down Oikawa's arms to his elbows, which was as far as he could reach. His breath moved the hair on the back of Oikawa's neck, and Hajime felt him shudder under his hands.

"Hajime," Oikawa murmured, reaching back to touch Hajime's arm.

Hajime was the first to move this time, letting himself be drawn down into Oikawa, He pressed his face against Oikawa's cheek, and for several moments they just breathed, the scent of the oil thick in Hajime's throat. Oikawa turned his head and kissed the corner of his mouth, and Hajime made a low, broken noise before kissing him back.

Clumsily, Oikawa turned, and Hajime slid his oily fingers into Oikawa's hair, cradling him closer as he tasted Oikawa's tongue between his lips.

"Hajime," Oikawa gasped, clutching him through his t-shirt. His hands ventured underneath, tugging it up to his armpits. "Hh—Hajime, yes—"

"Oikawa," Hajime sighed, pulling Oikawa closer to him. "Tooru—"

The sound of a phone ringing made Hajime jump. Oikawa flinched away from him, apparently also surprised, and turned sharply.

"Oh no, no—"

"What is it?"

"My phone, obviously," Oikawa said, sounding distracted. He got unsteadily to his feet and crossed the room, extracting his phone from the pocket of his jeans and answering the call. "Mama?"

While he was occupied, Hajime stood on shaky legs and staggered through to the bedroom. His lips were tingling, and his body burned where Oikawa had touched him. A sick feeling washed over him, and he sat down heavily on the edge of the bed, dropping his head into his hands. They still smelled of lemongrass, and the sensation of Oikawa's mouth was still fresh on his tongue.

"Hajime," Oikawa said in a shaky voice.

Hajime lifted his head. Oikawa stood in the doorway, his phone clutched to his chest. "What did Auntie want?"

Oikawa bit his lip. "It's—Dad, h-he—"

"Oh, hey, hey," Hajime soothed, getting to his feet. He reached for Oikawa and pulled him into a hug. "Hey, what happened?"

Oikawa took one heavy, shuddering breath, and then was still in his arms. "M-Mama said he collapsed, they're at the hospital."

"Oh, Tooru," Hajime said, hugging him more tightly. "Do you want to go back?"

"No," Oikawa said, pulling away. "I—I mean, yes, but Mama said not to. He's stable, they just—they want to do some tests and—" His voice hitched again, and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself. "I just keep thinking about last year."

Shushing him gently, Hajime reached out to clasp Oikawa's shoulders. "Hey. If Auntie says it's okay then I'm sure it is, but if you really want to go then you should."

Oikawa managed a wonky smile. "It's okay, she'd tell me if she needed me there."

"Yeah," Hajime said softly, running his fingers up and down Oikawa's arm. His skin was warm under Hajime's touch, but when Oikawa met his eyes Hajime pulled away with a guilty start.

"Sorry," Oikawa murmured, glancing away from him. "I'm not really—in the mood, anymore."

"That's fine," Hajime said quickly. "I mean—me neither."

Oikawa nodded and leaned into him again, dropping his forehead to rest on Hajime's shoulder.

"Want to finish the movie?" Hajime asked, willing his voice steady.

Oikawa nodded again.

"Come on then," Hajime said, giving him a gentle shove. "Get some clothes on."

"Don't pretend you don't appreciate all this," Oikawa said in an airy voice as he turned away, the jollity in his tone a little forced. "I can see it in your eyes, Iwa-chan!"

Hajime curled his hand into a fist, nails digging into his palm. "You're delusional," he grumbled, forcing down the ache in his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ヽ(*⌒▽⌒*)ﾉ

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://notallballs.tumblr.com) | [twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/notallbees)
> 
> [reblog the fic](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12236724) | [reblog the art](http://pussycat-scribbles.tumblr.com/post/166856784986/a-long-time-ago-once-upon-a-whatsapp)


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